UCSB    LIBRARY 


THE  GRASSHOPPERS 


HOW    DO    MEN    MANAGE   TO    MAKE    A    LIVING,    DICK?" — Pllgl 


The  Grasshoppers 


BY 

MRS.  ANDREW  DEAN 

(Mrs.  Alfred  Sidgwick) 


AUTHOR  OF    "ISAAC  ELLER's  MONEY,"     "A  SPLENDID  COUSIN, 
"MRS.    FINCH-BRASSEY,"    "  LESSER'S  DAUGHTER,"   ETC. 


Illustrated  by  Walter  B.  Russell 


"  La  eigale,  ayant  chant f 

Tout  /V//, 

Sf  trouva  fort  dfyourvue 
Quand  la  bise  fut  venue ': 


•ftew 
FREDERICK  A.   STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copgrfgbt,  1895 
jfrc&crlcfc  H.  Stofeee  Company 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  »AGE 

I.  MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTERS,        ....  7 

II.  SHOPPING, 14 

III.  HERR  HANSEN, 22 

IV.  MRS.  THEODORE  AT  HOME,  .  35 
V.  HERR  HANSEN'S  COATS 42 

VI.  BEFORE  THE  DANCE 58 

VII.  A  FOOLISH  VIRGIN,            69 

VIII.  DICK'S  FOLLY, 85 

IX.  BAD  NEWS,        . 92 

X.  REALITIES, 105 

XI.  RATS, 120 

XII.  FIRST  IMPRESSIONS, 131 

XIIL  AN  AFTERNOON  CALL, 147 

XIV.  A  FAMILY  PARTY, 161 

XV.  ON  THE  ALSTER, 176 

XVI.  NEWS  FROM  ENGLAND, 193 

XVII.  CHRISTMAS  WITH  AUNT  BERTHA,       .        .        .  212 

XVIII.  NF.W  YEAR'S  EVE,          .  225 

XIX.  POLTERABEND, 24! 

XX  THE  WEDDING  DAY,      ...  .261 


21 29229 


vi  Contents. 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

XXI.  FORTUNE'S  FREAKES  UNKINDK.        .       .        .272 

XXII.  LEBEWOHL!  ...                ...        281 

XXIII.  LIFE  IN  A  GARRET, 289 

XXIV.  A  WHITE  ELEPHANT 302 

XXV.  IN  WHICH  OLD  FRIENDS  MEET,       .        .        .314 

XXVI.  AN  ARRIVAL,  A  DEPARTURE,  AND  A  SURPRISE,    327 

XXVII.  WHAT  EVERY  WISB  MAN'S  SON  DOTH  KNOW,    337 


THE  GRASSHOPPERS 

CHAPTER  I. 

MOTHER    AND   DAUGHTERS. 

WHEN  Hilary  Frere  first  expressed  a  wish  to  go  to 
college  her  mother  wept.  Mrs.  Frere  had  not  trained 
up  her  daughter  to  walk  in  such  a  path  as  this.  She 
had  never  seen  any  of  the  women's  colleges,  nor  had 
she  ever  known  a  person  who  lived  in  one,  nor  was  she 
in  the  habit  of  reading  anything  more  about  them  than 
the  chance  paragraphs  that  appear  in  the  daily  papers 
and  the  fashion  books.  Nevertheless,  like  many  others 
of  her  generation,  she  cherished  a  lively  dislike  of 
these  institutions.  The  very  name  of  one  still  sends 
an  unpleasing  thrill  through  the  frames  of  many 
respectable  and  otherwise  intelligent  persons.  It 
conjures  up  a  vision  of  womanhood  with  the  graces 
left  out.  It  suggests  an  aggressive  creature  brimful 
of  the  knowledge  to  be  gathered  from  text-books,  and 
lacking  the  modesty  that  recognizes  a  yet  wider, 
deeper  knowledge  in  other  people. 

Moreover,  Mrs.  Frere  feared  that  collegiate  life 
would  have  the  same  effect  on  a  girl  as  a  vow  of  celi- 
bacy. It  would  lead  her  to  dress  in  a  disagreeably 
conspicuous  fashion.  She  would  cut  her  hair  short, 
take  to  spectacles,  and  burn  her  modish  gowns ;  and 
it  would  fill  her  with  the  distrust  of  men  and  marriage 
that  is  fashionable  among  the  glorified  spinsters  of 
to-day. 

"  The  others  will  say  they  despise  men,  and  then 


ttbe  Grasshoppers, 

marry  the  first  one  who  proposes,"  wailed  Mrs.  Frere, 
"  but  if  Hilary  says  so,  she  will  act  on  it ;  and  Hilary 
would  make  such  a  pretty  bride." 

Mrs.  Frere,  like  many  a  mother,  lived  in  the  hope 
of  seeing  her  two  girls  married  ;  and  the  wish  in  her 
kind  heart  proceeded  from  her  sincere  belief  in  the 
advantages  of  married  life.  She  was  not  by  any  means 
without  a  little  common  worldly  ambition.  She  would 
far  rather  have  seen  her  children  married  to  rich  men 
than  to  poor  ones;  but  she  would  confess  without 
much  pressure,  and  without  any  shame,  that  in  her 
opinion  almost  any  existence  as  a  married  woman  was 
preferable  to  a  state  of  single  blessedness.  She  was, 
in  short,  a  person  of  antiquated  views,  who  would 
probably  have  told  you  that  marriage  and  mother- 
hood ought  to  be  the  end  and  aim  of  a  woman's  life. 
Her  beliefs  were  behind  the  times,  but  they  were  com- 
plimentary to  her  husband. 

Mrs.  Frere  was  a  German.  Twenty-five  years  ago 
she  had  arrived  in  England  with  no  fortune  but  her 
good  looks,  her  foreign  tongue,  and  a  pretty  touch  on 
the  piano.  She  spent  a  couple  of  years  in  imparting 
all  she  could  of  these  advantages  to  the  daughters 
of  Mr.  Theodore,  a  wealthy  merchant,  and  then  she 
accepted  an  offer  of  marriage  from  Richard  Frere,  a 
junior  partner  in  her  employer's  firm. 

Mr.  Frere  married  for  love,  and  he  got  what  he 
wanted.  He  and  his  wife  clung  to  each  other  with 
an  affection  that  the  passing  years  seemed  to  foster 
and  strengthen,  as  time  fosters  and  strengthens  other 
healthy,  natural  growths.  Money  the  years  did  not 
bring  him,  and  for  this  his  beloved  wife  was  in  part 
responsible.  But  even  the  anxieties  of  his  position, 
and  Mrs.  Frere's  failure  to  appreciate  them,  could  not 
do  much  to  trouble  his  affection  for  her.  About 
most  items  of  their  expenditure  husband  and  wife 
disagreed  ;  and  it  is  a  pleasing  fact  that  this  constant 
disagreement  had  only  a  superficial  influence  on  their 
regard  for  each  other.  Such  are  the  advantages  of 
inconsistency. 


jflBotber  anfc  Daughters.  9 

There  was,  however,  one  form  of  expenditure  in 
which  both  of  them  delighted.  They  were  equally 
determined  to  deny  their  children  nothing.  Mrs. 
Frere's  indulgence  spent  itself  chiefly  on  amusements, 
clothes,  and  toys.  Mr.  Frere  made  a  point  of  paying 
as  much  as  possible  for  his  daughters'  education.  It 
was  his  way  of  providing  for  their  future.  Mrs. 
Frere's  way  was  still  more  simple.  The  girls  would 
marry  young,  and  marry  well,  she  said,  and  there 
would  be  an  end  of  all  perplexity.  The  next  few  years 
would  bring  this  about,  and,  if  more  money  than  usual 
was  spent  on  dress  and  hospitality,  Mr.  Frere  must 
not  grumble.  She  besought  him  to  keep  an  easy 
mind  and  a  light  heart  until  the  rice  had  been  thrown 
after  Nell  and  her  bridegroom.  Then  the  two  old 
people  could  settle  down  as  quietly  as  Mr.  Frere  liked 
and  enjoy  the  sunset  of  life  side  by  side.  Her  hus- 
band used  to  smile  at  his  wife's  pictures  of  their  chil- 
dren's triumphs  and  of  the  silver  honeymoon  they  two 
would  pass  together.  But  his  anxieties  were  too  real 
to  be  dispelled  by  pleasant  prophecy.  He  was  piti- 
fully eager  to  give  his  children  anything  he  could  in 
the  shape  of  a  hold  on  the  world. 

Nell's  endeavors  to  improve  herself  were  never 
unpleasing  to  her  mother.  She  had  a  fancy  for 
modern  languages  ;  she  danced  well  ;  and,  aided  by 
expensive  masters,  she  made  the  most  of  a  pretty 
little  voice.  Even  her  rivals  called  her  a  clever  girl. 
When  the  banjo  came  into  fashion  she  learned  to  play 
it  at  once,  and  she  could  dance  in  an  accordion-pleated 
skirt  as  soon  as  that  was  the  proper  thing  to  do.  She 
had  quite  a  genius  (her  friends  said)  for  painting 
flowers  on  any  background  in  vogue.  Sometimes  it 
was  the  panels  of  a  door  ;  once  it  was  the  ceiling,  and 
that  made  her  mother  nervous.  Lately  it  had  been 
drain-pipes.  In  a  country  town  she  would  have  been 
the  prop  of  the  bazaars. 

Hilary  was  very  unlike  her  sister,  and  she  was  at 
once  the  pride  and  the  despair  of  her  mother's  heart. 
At  school  she  worked  hard  and  did  well,  and  this 


(Srassbopperg. 

greatly  gratified  Mrs.  Frere,  who  never  realized  that 
her  child's  proficiency  in  English  was  not  as  strange 
and  commendable  as  it  would  have  been  in  herself. 
But  when  Hilary  left  school  her  mother  did  not  see 
why  she  should  trouble  any  further  about  the  pursuit 
of  knowledge.  A  few  singing  lessons,  a  fancy  for 
water-colors,  the  translation  of  /  Promcssi  Sposi,  or 
even  a  course  or  two  of  scientific  lectures — such  last 
touches  to  a  girl's  education  Mrs.  Frere  could  under- 
stand ;  but  it  vexed  her  to  see  the  child  light  up  over 
a  volume  of  Ruskin,  and  yawn  in  the  dressmaker's 
parlor.  And  why  should  she  work  at  Greek  and 
mathematics  ?  In  these  days,  when  eligible  husbands 
are  few  and  far  between,  it  behooves  a  girl  to  be  care- 
ful lest  she  should  frighten  one  away.  Moreover,  the 
Greek  characters  might  injure  her  eyes  ;  and  if  she 
spent  her  mornings  indoors  "  doing  mathematics," 
she  would  certainly  lose  her  complexion.  These 
recondite  studies  were  unpraiseworthy,  but  even  they 
were  not  as  inconvenient  as  a  fit  of  "  slumming  "  that 
made  Hilary  late  for  meals,  and  eventually  gave  her 
the  measles.  Mrs.  Frere  said  she  could  not  allow  it 
to  go  on.  It  endangered  their  lives,  upset  the  house, 
and  put  the  servants  out  of  temper.  If  Hilary  wanted 
to  be  charitable  she  might  give  away  some  of  her 
pocket  money. 

None,  however,  of  Hilary's  most  tiresome  vagaries 
had  been  as  displeasing  to  her  mother  as  the  last 
one.  In  the  dawn  of  her  youth  and  beauty  she 
wished  to  renounce  the  world  and  shut  herself  up  in 
a  woman's  college.  Mrs.  Frere  implored  her  child 
to  stay  at  home  and  gather  rosebuds  while  she  might. 
She  reminded  Hilary  that  her  eighteenth  birthday 
had  come  and  gone,  and  that  time  was  flying.  But 
Hilary  kissed  her  mother,  and  coaxed  her  father, 
and  as  usual  got  her  own  way.  After  overcoming 
just  enough  resistance  to  enhance  her  self-respect, 
she  departed,  full  of  curiosity  and  hope,  to  try  a  new 
manner  of  life  at  St.  Cyprian's. 

After  her  first  term  Hilary  came  home  full  of  new 


dftotber  an&  Daughters.  " 

tastes  and  opinions  that  in  one  sense  gave  Mrs.  Frere 
much  satisfaction.  They  enabled  her  to  say  to  her 
husband,  "  I  told  you  so  " — a  form  of  revenge  that  all 
men  tell  us  is  exceedingly  dear  to  the  feminine  heart. 
Hilary  had  not  burned  her  fashionable  gowns,  but  she 
said  that  they  were  vulgar.  She  had  not  cut  off  her 
beautiful  hair,  but  she  wore  it  brushed  away  from 
her  face  and  twisted  into  a  rough  shapeless  lump 
at  the  back.  She  bought  shoes  and  gloves  that  were 
too  large  and  too  thick,  and  with  the  most  incapable 
of  fingers  she  trimmed  her  own  hats.  On  all  the 
great  questions  of  the  day  her  opinions  were  feverishly 
decided.  It  must  be  owned  that  even  Nell,  easy- 
going, good-tempered  Nell,  found  her  sister  a  trying 
companion  at  this  critical  period  of  her  growth. 
There  was  never  any  telling  what  Hilary  would 
swear  at  or  swear  by  next.  Of  course  Nell's  smart 
clothes  came  under  the  ban.  So  did  most  of  her 
friends  and  all  her  occupations.  And  Nell,  who  was 
not  without  perception,  noticed  that  Hilary  rather 
made  a  point  now  of  being  bored  by  most  company, 
and  of  discovering  that  nearly  everyone  she  met 
was  ridiculous.  To  Nell  it  seemed  that  this  habit 
was  not  a  sign  of  either  a  great  heart  or  a  great 
wit,  and  that  the  sooner  Hilary  cast  it  off  the 
better. 

On  the  whole,  this  little  crop  of  affectations  was 
the  most  visible  fruit  to  her  own  people  of  Hilary's 
first  term  at  college.  But  they  soon  discovered  that 
at  the  end  of  each  term  the  crop  had  changed  a  little, 
and  generally  for  the  better.  In  the  course  of  three 
terms  she  had  seen  the  vanity  of  several  "  isms  "  and 
cast  them  aside.  At  Christmas  she  had  come  home 
with  "  Walden "  in  her  trunk  and  contempt  in  her 
soul  for  material  comforts.  In  her  soul  the  contempt 
flourished  finely  for  a  fortnight,  but  the  weather 
turned  cold  and  her  body  inconveniently  rebelled. 
She  had  refused  a  fire  in  her  own  room,  and  had 
lived  on  bread  and  potatoes  for  a  week.  So  she  fell 
ill,  and  was  ordered  sweet-breads  and  champagne. 


12  Gbe  (Brassboppers. 

She  had  brought  a  friend  with  her  who  was  as  rude 
to  Mrs.  Frere  and  Nell  as  Mr.  Stiggins  was  to  Mr. 
Wetter.  She  showed  them  very  plainly  that  in  her 
opinion  they  were  vessels  of  wrath.  At  Easter  Hilary 
arrived  with  a  Norwegian  dictionary  and  another 
friend,  who  said  Ibsen  had  knocked  Shakspere 
into  a  cocked  hat.  The  two  young  ladies  spent  the 
vacation  discussing  the  marriage  laws  and  a  pamphlet 
that  should  bring  about  their  amendment.  But  the 
pamphlet  never  got  written,  because  one  day  a  young 
man  called  on  Hilary's  friend  and  proposed  to  her. 
She  came  upstairs  in  a  state  of  happy  excitement 
from  her  interview  with  him,  and  said  she  must  go  to 
the  Army  and  Navy  stores  that  very  afternoon  and 
order  her  trousseau,  as  "  he  "  had  to  sail  for  India  in 
no  time  and  wished  to  take  her  with  him.  Mrs. 
Frere  liked  that  girl,  and  gave  her  a  handsome  wed- 
ding present. 

After  this  Hilary  did  not  bring  many  of  her  college 
acquaintances  home  with  her.  She  was  somehow 
often  most  attracted  by  the  poor  ones  who  dressed 
shabbily  and  looked  forward  to  making  their  own 
living.  Her  father's  friends  were  flourishing  business 
people,  luxurious  in  their  habits,  extravagant  in  their 
expenditure.  They  considered  her  a  girl  of  eccentric 
tastes,  and  she  considered  some  of  them  dull,  common- 
place, and  respectably  corrupt.  Her  work  at  college 
led  to  nothing  much.  At  the  end  of  her  third  term 
she  had  made  very  little  of  her  text-books ;  but  she 
had  gained  some  experience  of  a  society  that  does 
not  attach  quite  as  much  value  to  money  as  the  one 
in  which  she  lived.  She  had  seen  people  deeply 
interested  in  other  pursuits  and  problems  than  the 
race  for  gold  and  the  display  of  it.  She  had  made 
friends  with  women  who  spent  less  in  a  year  on 
clothes  than  Mrs.  Theodore  did  on  a  single  gown, 
and  were  nevertheless  content  and  highly  honored. 
New  ideas  fermented  in  her, — some  extravagant  and 
foolish,  some  wholesome, — to  be  discarded  or  developed 
as  she  grew  older.  When  she  packed  her  trunks  at 


flBotber  anO  Daughters.  13 

the  end  of  the  May  term  she  came  across  her  notes 
for  the  pamphlet  on  the  marriage  laws.  She  thought 
it  would  be  a  pleasant  holiday  task  to  expand  them. 
On  the  subject  of  men  and  marriage  her  opinions 
were  still  fully  formed.  On  the  subject  of  clothes 
her  taste  had  changed  again. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SHOPPING. 

MRS.  FRERE  and  Nell  had  been  shopping  all  the 
morning.  They  had  left  home  directly  after  break- 
fast, for  they  had  seen  at  an  early  hour  that  the  day 
would  be  fine,  and  that  it  would  be  pleasant  to  spend 
it  out  of  doors.  The  inside  of  a  London  shop  will 
not  seem  to  everyone  an  attractive  place  in  which  to 
pass  any  part  of  a  bright  June  morning.  But  these 
ladies  were  town  born  and  bred.  To  them  summer 
brought  few  country  memories,  and  no  wish  for  other 
sights  and  sounds  than  those  of  the  London  streets. 
Of  course  they  liked  a  fine  summer.  It  was  dry 
under  foot  and  fair  over  head.  In  such  weather  they 
could  linger  near  the  shop  windows  or  in  one  of  the 
parks.  If  they  felt  hot  they  sought  the  shade ;  if 
they  were  thirsty  they  ate  an  ice. 

Nell  thought  she  had  never  seen  the  shops  so 
tempting.  Her  mother  and  she  had  spent  a  good 
deal  of  money  already,  and  they  still  had  purchases 
to  make.  Nell  wanted  a  hat  and  Mrs.  Frere  a  bonnet. 
It  was  difficult  to  choose  among  so  many,  and  it 
ended  in  Nell  taking  two  and  spending  twice  as  much 
as  Mrs.  Frere  said  she  could  afford.  But  the  black 
one  was  necessary,  and  Nell  looked  so  bewitching 
in  the  big  brown  one  that  her  mother  could  not 
bear  to  leave  it  behind.  Besides  the  hats  there  were 
shoes  and  gloves  to  get,  and  a  bit  of  real  lace  for 
Nell's  new  dinner  gown.  Mrs.  Frere  never  liked  her 
children  to  follow  the  fashion  of  wearing  imitation 
lace.  She  thought  it  as  undesirable  as  electro-plate 
instead  of  silver,  or  cotton  instead  of  linen.  But  real 
Alenfon  is  costly,  especially  when  you  choose  the 


Sbopping.  15 

most  expensive  pattern.  Nell  persuaded  her  mother 
to  take  it  by  reminding  her  that  it  is  always  economi- 
cal to  buy  the  best.  Mrs.  Frere  prided  herself  on  her 
economy. 

The  ladies  lunched  at  the  Autolycus.  Just  a  roast 
fowl  and  half  a  bottle  of  claret,  and  a  meringue  for 
Nell  ;  a  frugal  little  meal  that  nevertheless  cost 
about  a  sovereign.  Mrs.  Frere  did  not  drink  cheap 
wine,  and  she  .ordered  asparagus  without  noticing 
that  the  price  on  the  bill  of  fare  was  very  high. 
Somehow,  though  she  was  not  a  young  woman,  she 
was  liable  to  these  surprises.  After  lunch  they  drove 
to  Marshall  &  Snellgrove's.  They  had  an  account 
there,  a  plan  that  reduces  the  anxiety  of  shopping  to 
a  minimum.  It  is,  in  fact,  all  centered  in  that 
unpleasant  moment,  once  in  six  months,  when  the  bill 
comes  in.  Instead  of  painfully  considering  the  price 
of  each  separate  article,  and  sometimes  choosing 
a  cheaper  one,  or  even  doing  without  it.  Mrs.  Frere 
and  Nell  spent  all  their  time  and  trouble  on  finding 
what  best  pleased  them.  They  were  occupied  with 
the  realization,  not  with  the  cost  of  their  desires.  In 
this  way,  as  I  have  said  already,  Mrs.  Frere  fre- 
quently prepared  surprises  for  herself.  The  half- 
yearly  bills  were  full  of  them.  Still  she  complacently 
maintained  that  she  was  an  economical  woman.  She 
declared  with  truth  that  she  only  bought  what  she 
wanted,  and  when  her  husband  accused  her  of  spend- 
ing more  than  he  could  afford,  she  begged  him  to 
point  out  exactly  which  article  he  considered  super- 
fluous. I  need  hardly  say  that  in  such  arguments  it 
was  the  lord  and  master  who  retired  worsted. 

"If  we  are  to  have  a  dance,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  to 
Nell,  "  we  had  better  buy  something  for  Hilary  to 
wear." 

"  Oh,  yes,  mother !  "  said  Nell  anxiously.  "  Remem- 
ber what  she  looked  like  at  Mrs.  Theodore's  dance  in 
those  bath  towels." 

Hilary's  present  style  of  dress  was  a  sore  trial  to  her 
mother  and  sister.  She  had  come  up  for  a  day  last 


©raseboppers. 

month  in  order  to  be  present  at  one  of  Mrs.  Frere's 
afternoon  receptions,  and  she  had  appeared  on  this 
occasion  in  a  bright  brown  velveteen,  villainously  cut 
and  made.  In  a  room  full  of  well-dressed  people  she 
looked  conspicuous  and  absurd,  and  Mrs.  Frere  very 
naturally  felt  vexed.  She  thought  that  Hilary  showed 
a  want  of  sense,  and  even  of  refinement,  in  attracting 
public  attention  by  her  eccentric  clothes.  But  many 
of  Mrs.  Frere's  opinions  were  so  antiquated  that  one 
hardly  likes  to  repeat  them. 

"  You  must  ask  for  yellow,  mother,"  prompted  Nell, 
as  they  walked  toward  the  department  they  required. 
"  Hilary  is  sure  to  want  yellow." 

"  It  is  such  an  ugly  color,"  complained  Mrs. 
Frere. 

"  Oh,  no,  mother  !     Look  at  this." 

The  man  serving  them  had  brought  forward  a  soft 
silky  material,  shot  in  all  shades  of  yellow  from  cream 
to  crocus.  He  set  it  up  in  folds,  gave  it  a  little  pat, 
and  mentioned  that  it  was  new  and  inexpensive. 

"  I  want  something  inexpensive,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

He  told  her  the  price.  It  was  three  times  as  much 
as  she  wished  to  give.  The  man  saw  her  hesitate,  and 
pushed  aside  some  inferior  goods  as  unworthy  of  her 
notice.  Mrs.  Frere  felt  quite  flattered,  and  ordered  a 
generous  length  to  be  sent  to  her  French  dressmaker 
that  afternoon. 

This  business  accomplished,  the  mother  and 
daughter  made  some  trifling  purchases  and  then 
drove  home.  They  were  tired,  but  well  satisfied  with 
their  day's  work.  Nell  was  particularly  pleased  with 
a  fan  that  she  had  seen  just  as  she  left  the  shop,  and 
which  had  only  cost  a  guinea. 

"  I  asked  the  price  this  time,  mother,"  she  said. 
"  Don't  you  remember  how  vexed  father  was  at 
Christmas  about  the  feather  fan  that  I  took  without 
knowing  it  cost  five  guineas.  He  will  not  mind  one 
guinea,  will  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  my  dear,"  sighed  Mrs.  Frere.  "  He 
seems  to  mind  everything.  I  am  sure  I  am  as  saving 


Sbopptnfl.  '7 

as  I  can  be,  but  he  expects  me  to  keep  house  and  dress 
myself  and  you  on  nothing." 

Nell  made  no  reply.  Ever  since  she  could  remem- 
ber, money  had  been  a  sore  subject  between  her 
father  and  mother.  It  was  the  one  cause  of  dissen- 
sion in  their  affectionate  household,  and  the  disputes 
about  it  were  unpleasant  and  well  worn.  The  young 
people  avoided  a  topic  sure  to  come  in  one  way  or  the 
other  to  a  miserable  end. 

It  was  nearly  six  o'clock  when  they  reached  St. 
John's  Wood,  and  as  they  pulled  up  at  their  own  door 
they  saw  Mr.  Frere  letting  himself  in  with  his  latch- 
key. He  was  a  gray-haired,  elderly  man,  rather  under 
the  average  height,  sparely  built,  and  thin.  His 
features  were  refined,  and  though,  on  the  whole,  you 
would  have  called  his  face  a  plain  one,  you  would 
have  said  that  his  eyes  were  likeable.  You  could  not 
imagine  them  looking  unkindly  on  anyone  ;  and  they 
were  intelligent  eyes.  But  there  was  a  troubled  look 
in  his  face,  and  the  deep  lines  on  it  were  lines  of 
anxiety.  This  afternoon,  when  he  had  taken  off  his 
coat  and  hat,  he  walked  slowly  upstairs  to  the  morn- 
ing room  on  the  first  floor.  His  wife  and  daughter 
had  hurried  there  before  him  because,  as  the  front 
door  opened,  they  saw  Hilary's  big  trunk  in  the  halir 
So  they  knew  she  had  arrived  from  St.  Cyprian's,  and 
they  hastened  to  welcome  her,  and  to  note  without 
any  loss  of  time  the  latest  changes  in  her  costume  and 
her  opinions.  They  could  reckon  on  changes,  but  not 
on  the  direction  of  them. 

Strangers  who  saw  the  sisters  together  usually  said 
that  they  were  very  much  alike  ;  and  in  some  respects 
there  was,  no  doubt,  an  obvious  resemblance.  Both 
girls  were  slenderly  built,  of  average  height,  fair- 
haired,  blue-eyed,  and  pale.  They  both  had  small 
feet  and  pretty,  useless-looking  white  hands  ;  their 
dimples  matched,  and  so  did  their  voices.  There 
were  tricks  of  manner  common  to  both,  and  now  and 
again  a  striking  likeness  of  expression  would  bear  wit- 
ness to  their  sisterhood.  But  as  acquaintance  with 


Grasshoppers. 

them  grew  the  resemblance,  at  first  so  striking, 
gradually  faded.  Nell's  good  humor  was  irresistible. 
It  was  proof  against  the  dullest  company.  Youth 
itself  seemed  to  enter  the  room  with  her — youth  in  the 
best  of  spirits,  well  satisfied  and  easily  entertained. 
Hilary,  on  the  contrary,  was  often  out  of  spirits, 
because,  like  many  people  of  her  years,  she  felt  sure 
that  the  world  was  in  a  parlous  state,  and  that  it 
behoved  her  to  better  it.  As  a  preliminary,  she  tried 
to  better  herself,  which  shows,  at  any  rate,  that  she 
was  ahead  of  some  more  accredited  reformers. 

This  afternoon  her  mother  and  sister  stared  at  her 
in  surprise.  Since  their  last  meeting  Hilary's  appear- 
ance had  undergone  a  startling  alteration.  The 
obnoxious  velveteen  had  vanished,  so  had  the  home- 
made hat  and  the  clumsy  boots. 

"  Hilary  !  "  exclaimed  her  sister,  "  how  trim  you 
look.  What  have  you  done  to  yourself  ? " 

"  Tell  me,  Nell,"  said  Hilary,  in  a  solemn  voice, 
"  are  these  sleeves  right  ?  "  and  she  gave  them  a  pull 
at  the  shoulder  to  show  what  she  meant. 

"  Where  is  that  velveteen  ?  "  asked  Nell,  and  she  in 
her  turn  completed  her  question  with  a  brief  dumb- 
show  that  described  the  sloppy,  slovenly  garment  after 
which  she  inquired.  Hilary  looked  rather  annoyed. 

"  I  gave  it  away,"  she  said.  "  But  do  answer,  Nell. 
I  see  no  clothes  at  college.  Are  these  sleeves  right  ? 
and  this  skirt  ?  Is  it  narrow  enough  ?  I  am  so  afraid 
it  is  not.  Why  have  you  done  your  hair  so  low  on  your 
neck  ?  Is  mine  too  high  ?  I  hope  you  like  my  hat." 

She  walked  slowly  to  a  mirror  over  the  fire-place, 
looked  at  her  reflection  there,  and  then  turned  round 
to  greet  her  father  as  he  came  into  the  room. 

"  You  look  very  well,  my  dear,"  he  said  affection- 
ately. 

Mrs.  Frere  and  Nell  had  taken  off  their  outdoor 
things  and  thrown  them  down  anywhere.  The  center 
table  and  some  of  the  chairs  were  littered  with  parcels. 
When  the  maid  came  in  with  tea  she  hardly  knew 
where  to  put  the  tray.  But  the  room,  in  spite  of  its 


Shopping.  19 

present  disorder,  looked  pleasant  and  comfortable.  It 
was  large,  light,  plainly  furnished,  fragrant  with  spring 
flowers.  The  windows  opened  on  a  roomy  veranda 
that  overlooked  neighboring  gardens  as  well  as  the 
one  belonging  to  the  house.  On  this  warm  June 
evening  the  birds  were  singing  in  a  rapture.  The  din 
of  London  sounded  far  away.  The  air  came  in  lilac- 
laden  from  the  trees  in  full  flower  below. 

"  But  why  have  you  given  away  the  velveteen  ? " 
said  Mrs.  Frere,  who  felt  bewildered  by  her  daughter's 
sudden  amazing  interest  in  the  shape  of  a  sleeve. 

"  It  was  badly  made,"  said  Hilary. 

"  Then  why  did  you  wear  it  at  my  At  Home  ? " 

Hilary  did  not  answer  her  mother's  question.  She 
looked  a  little  bit  guilty,  got  up  and  helped  herself  to 
cake,  and  said,  as  she  sat  down  again,  "  It  is  so  impor- 
tant to  dress  well.  Not  really,  you  know,  but  because 
people  are  so  silly.  They  will  not  listen  to  us  if  we 
look  dowdy." 

"  Listen  !  "  said  Mr.  Frere.  "  You  are  not  going 
to  talk  from  the  housetops,  I  hope,  my  dear.  I  don't 
approve  of  women  speaking  in  public." 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  know,  my  dear.  I  like  domestic 
.women  and  all  that.  Besides,  what  can  you  want  to 
say  ? " 

Hilary's  eyes,  which  were  usually  rather  solemn, 
twinkled  for  a  moment  with  amusement.  She  sipped 
her  tea,  let  the  subject  drop,  and  then,  after  a  sufficient 
pause,  started  a  new  one. 

"  So  we  are  going  to  have  a  dance  ? "  she  asked. 
She  addressed  her  father,  who  looked  as  much  startled 
as  if  she  had  struck  him.  From  behind  his  chair  Nell 
made  reproachful  grimaces  at  her  sister,  and  Mrs. 
Frere  said  : 

"  Nothing  is  decided,  my  dear.  Father  has  not 
given  his  consent  yet.  In  fact,  I  had  not  mentioned 
it;  had  I,  Henry?" 

"Certainly  not, "said  Mr.  Frere.  "  And  I  wish  you 
would  not  now." 


20  abe  <5ras6bopperg. 

"  We  must  give  one,  you  know,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  in 
her  placid,  comfortable  voice.  There  were  no  lines 
of  anxiety  on  her  face.  She  always  said  that  if  only 
people  would  take  things  easily,  as  she  did,  they 
would  get  on  in  life,  as  she  had  hitherto  done. 

"  A  dance  at  home  is  such  fun,"  said  Nell,  perching 
on  her  father's  chair,  and  putting  her  arm  round  his 
neck. 

"  It  needn't  cost  much,"  hazarded  Mrs.  Frere. 
"  We  make  our  own  jellies." 

"  It  always  does  cost  a  great  deal,"  said  Mr.  Frere. 

"  Well,  papa,  dear,"  said  Nell,  stroking  her  father's 
hair,  "  you  know  you  like  spending  your  money  on 
Hilary  and  me.  You  always  say  we  are  to  have 
everything  we  want,  and  I  am  sure  we  want  a 
dance." 

"  Besides,  we  must  do  as  other  people  do,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere. 

"  Other  people  do  not  spend  more  than  they  can 
afford." 

"  Really,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  in  an  aggrieved 
voice,  "  if  you  can  suggest  any  possible  retrenchment, 
I  shall  be  very  glad.  We  must  have  food  and  clothes, 
and  that  is  about  all  we  do  have.  We  keep  no  carriage, 
we  have  no  men  servants.  I  never  ask  you  for  jewelry. 
The  truth  is,  you  lose  a  thousand  pounds  in  the  City, 
and  then  complain  because  I  spend  twenty  in  the 
house." 

"  What  can  I  do  if  I  haven't  got  the  money  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Frere,  who  was  rapidly  losing  his  temper. 

"  Oh,  you  have  a  good  business.  The  girls  will 
soon  be  married,  and  then  we  shan't  want  much." 

Hilary  got  up.  Her  face  showed  plainly  enough 
that  her  mother's  last  remark  offended  her. 

"  I  think  I  will  go  and  unpack,"  she  said. 

"  Hilary  does  not  like  your  prophecies,  my  dear," 
said  Mr.  Frere.  "  She  means  to  stay  at  home." 

His  wife  sighed,  and  when  the  girls  had  left  the 
room  together,  she  exclaimed,  "  How  I  wish  that  Hilary 
had  never  gone  to  college  !  " 


Shopping.  21 

"  I  don't,"  said  her  husband.  "  If  ever  she  wants  to 
earn  her  living " 

"  Really,  Henry,  you  are  as  bad  as  she  is.  Earn 
her  living,  indeed  !  I  hope  my  girls  will  never  think 
of  such  a  thing.  Such  pretty  girls  as  they  are — they 
are  sure  to  marry  well.  Of  course,  if  we  are  always 
croaking  and  looking  at  the  dark  side  of  things,  we 
shall  have  no  luck.  But  that  is  not  my  way.  Let  the 
future  take  care  of  itself.  I  call  it  downright  wicked 
to  be  always  spoiling  the  children's  pleasure,  and 
making  them  uncomfortable,  just  when  their  lookout 
is  so  brilliant  too." 

Mr.  Frere  stared  at  his  wife  in  astonishment,  but 
she  nodded  and  blinked  at  him  in  a  manner  full  of 
meaning. 

"  My  girls  are  great  favorites,"  she  said. 

"  Oh  !  is  that  all  ? "  said  her  husband,  picking  up 
the  day's  paper  and  unfolding  it. 

"  How  very  provoking  you  can  be,  Henry  !  "  com- 
plained Mrs.  Frere.  "  What  more  do  you  want  ? 
Nell  is  as  good  as  engaged  to  Arthur  Preston,  and 
Herr  Hansen  took  the  greatest  interest  in  Hilary's 
photograph.  Since  I  showed  it  to  him  he  always  asks 
after  her." 

"  I  would  far  rather  hear  Dick  Lorimer  ask  after 
her." 

"  You  don't  aim  high  enough  for  your  daughter, 
Henry.  I  always  notice  that.  Dick  Lorimer  is  very 
well,  but  Herr  Hansen  is  a  rich  man." 

"  Settle  it  your  own  way,  my  dear,  if  you  can,"  said 
Mr.  Frere. 

He  never  much  enjoyed  these  discussions  of  his 
daughters'  admirers.  He  thought  to  himself,  as  many 
another  man  has  before  him,  that  the  ways  of  women 
are  beyond  the  masculine  understanding.  Why  should 
such  a  simple-minded  woman  as  his  wife  prefer  Herr 
Hansen  to  Dick  Lorimer  simply  because  he  had  more 
money  ? 


CHAPTER   III. 

HERR    HANSEN. 

MRS.  FRERE  said  that  she  did  not  give  dinner 
parties,  and  in  one  sense  this  was  true.  She  hardly 
ever  put  extra  leaves  into  her  table.  But  it  is  quite  as 
expensive  to  prepare  a  dainty  repast  two  or  three  times 
a  week  for  a  couple  of  young  men  as  to  entertain  a 
dozen  old  fogies  once  in  away.  The  Freres  kept  open 
house,  and  an  inn  where  no  bills  are  presented  costs  its 
supporters  money.  Mrs.  Frerewas  loyal  to  her  tradi- 
tions, and  considered  the  palates  of  her  guests  in  a 
degree  undreamed  of  nowadays  by  an  Englishwoman. 
And  some  of  her  pets  were  very  uppish  about  their 
food.  Hamburg  people  stew  their  hams  in  champagne, 
baste  their  venison  with  cream  and  butter,  and  stuff 
their  poultry  with  truffles. 

"  Such  a  misfortune  !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  she  burst 
into  the  morning  room  one  afternoon,  about  a  week 
after  Hilary's  return  from  college. 

Hilary  looked  up  from  her  books  inquiringly. 

"  The  crayfish  have  come,"  panted  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Hilary. 

"  They  are  bad.     What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

"  Throw  them  away/' 

"  My  dear  child  !  I  have  promised  Herr  Hansen 
to  have  bisque  for  dinner.  The  servants  are  all  so 
busy.  Would  you  mind  going  round  to  the  nearest 
fishmonger  and  telling  him  to  send  a  big  lobster  at 
once?  I  suppose  you  would  rather  not  bring  it  with 
you?  Of  course,  lobster  is  not  crayfish.  I  know 
Herr  Hansen  will  find  it  out.  It  is  a  real  misfortune." 

"  Is  he  so  greedy,  then  ?"  asked  Hilary,  who  had 
not  seen  her  mother's  new  phoenix  yet ;  but  Mrs. 


f>err  ftanscn.  23 

Frere  did  not  hear  the  question.  She  had  seen  a 
speck  of  dust  on  a  photograph  frame,  and  was  hunt- 
ing in  the  writing-table  drawer  for  a  duster  with 
which  to  remove  it.  She  kept  an  embroidered  one 
handy  for  emergencies,  but  Nell  borrowed  it  some- 
times and  forgot  to  put  it  back  again. 

Hilary  took  her  books  upstairs,  and  got  ready  to 
go  out.  She  found  it  almost  impossible  to  accom- 
plish any  steady  reading  at  home.  Nell's  constant 
strumming  disturbed  her  a  good  deal,  and  Mrs.  Frere's 
domestic  confidences  still  more.  She  reckoned  that 
she  might  have  translated  a  whole  act  of  the  "  Hecuba  " 
while  she  listened  to  her  mother's  reasons  for  think- 
ing the  cook  wasted  the  butter.  It  did  not  take  long 
to  go  round  to  the  fishmonger,  and  when  she  came 
back  she  sat  down  to  her  books  again.  This  time 
she  remained  in  her  own  bedroom  ;  but  she  had 
hardly  read  ten  lines  when  Nell  came  in  from  a  happy 
day  at  Shoolbred's,  her  hands  full  of  little  parcels. 

"  I  am  so  tired,"  she  said,  sinking  into  an  easy-chair. 
"  I  have  told  them  to  bring  me  some  tea  up  here. 
What  are  you  going  to  wear  to-night,  Hilary  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Hilary,  debating  with  herself 
as  to  whether  she  should  ask  Nell  to  drink  her  tea 
elsewhere  ;  but  before  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
a  maid  came  in  with  a  little  tray  that  she  placed  at 
Nell's  side.  Hilary  looked  ruefully  at  her  Liddell 
and  Scott  and  shut  it. 

"  Your  pale  green  suits  you  best,"  said  Nell. 

Hilary  got  up  and  surveyed  herself  in  the  wardrobe 
glass.  Then  she  opened  a  drawer  and  took  out  the 
gown. 

"  After  all,"  she  said  undecidedly,  "  what  does  it 
matter  to-night?" 

"You  can  never  tell,"  said  Nell. 

Hilary  did  not  like  the  implication  underlying  this 
remark,  but  she  made  no  comment  on  it ;  and  when 
she  dressed  for  dinner  she  put  on  the  green  gown. 
It  was  pale  and  transparent,  and  cunningly  made. 
It  seemed  to  hang  in  straight  folds  from  her  throat, 


24  tTbe  <3ra00boppers. 

and  yet  it  did  not  hide  the  lovely  lines  of  her  figure, 
nor  did  it  quite  cover  her  neck  and  arms.  Herr 
Hansen,  who  had  come  early,  stared  at  her  in  amaze- 
ment as  Mrs.  Frere  presented  him.  Except  for  the 
color  of  her  gown,  and  for  her  neatly  shod  feet,  the 
girl  might  have  stepped  straight  from  "The  Golden 
Stairs";  and  whether  or  not  you  think  Burne  Jones 
paints  beautiful  women,  he  certainly  shows  you  a 
type  uncommon  in  German  mercantile  society.  Herr 
Hansen's  first  idea  was  that  he  did  not  admire  it.  He 
liked  a  stout,  rosy-cheeked  maid  with  a  full  bust,  a 
tight  waistband,  and  an  engaging  giggle  ;  and  he  had 
been  brought  up  to  think  that  a  woman  who  did  not 
copy  her  dress  from  the  fashion-plates  must  be  either 
an  actress  or  a  lunatic.  He  reminded  himself,  how- 
ever, that  he  was  in  England.  Germans  talk  of  a 
mad  Englishman  as  we  talk  of  a  canny  Scot. 

"  So  you  are  the  learned  young  lady,"  he  said,  sit- 
ting down  heavily  beside  her. 

"  Am  I  ? "  said  Hilary,  wondering  how  her  mother 
could  admire  his  appearance  or  describe  him  as  a 
fine-looking  man.  There  was  certainly  a  great  deal 
of  him,  and  with  many  people  quantity  seems  to 
count.  Hilary,  like  most  women,  thought  that  men 
should  by  rights  be  tall,  but  she  required  something 
more  than  mere  height  and  size.  Herr  Hansen's 
figure  was  shocking  to  English  prejudices.  He  was 
corpulent.  He  had  rather  fine  blue  eyes,  an  unre- 
markable nose,  a  high  color,  and  a  great  deal  too 
much  dark  hair.  His  locks,  his  beard,  and  his 
whiskers  would  all  have  been  the  better  for  pruning. 
He  wore  a  frock  coat  that  was  too  tight  for  him,  a 
crimson  tie,  and  trousers  of  a  pronounced  fancy 
pattern,  probably  recommended  by  his  tailor  as 
genuinely  English. 

"  In  Germany  young  ladies  do  not  go  to  the  univ- 
ersity," he  continued,  evidently  under  the  impression 
that  he  was  communicating  a  fact  unknown  in 
England. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  Hilary. 


1>err  1>ansen.  25 

"Never,"  said  Herr  Hansen,  "I  assure  you. 
Never ! " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Hilary  civilly,  but  she  could  not  con- 
tinue the  discussion  because  Dick  Lorimer  came  in 
just  then,  and,  after  shaking  hands  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Frere,  caught  sight  of  her.  They  had  not  seen  each 
other  for  five  years,  and  until  dinner  was  announced 
they  were  both  fully  occupied  in  observing  the  out- 
ward changes  made  by  time. 

"  You  had  short  frocks,"  said  Dick,  looking  at 
Hilary's  train. 

"Yes,"  said  Hilary,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  Dick's 
mustache.  When  he  went  away  it  had  not  been 
slightly  grizzled. 

"  You  wore  your  hair  down  your  back." 

"  I  did."  Hilary  glanced  at  Dick's  forehead  as 
she  spoke.  In  five  years  his  hair  had  receded,  and 
at  the  top  it  was  thin. 

"  You  are  much  taller." 

"  Yes,  and  you  are  not.  I  am  up  to  your  shoulder 
now." 

"  Hardly." 

Memory  on  memory  crowded  into  their  minds  as 
their  speech  stumbled  into  a  more  familiar  key.  In 
spite  of  the  seven  years  that  separated  them  they 
were  old  friends.  Dick's  father  had  represented  the 
firm  of  Theodore  &  Frere  in  Bombay.  His  liver 
killed  him  a  year  after  the  senior  partner's  death,  and 
three  months  before  he  was  entitled  to  a  share  in  the 
business  and  a  pension  for  his  widow.  Mr.  Theo- 
dore, Jr.,  said  that  this  was  the  fortune  of  war.  The 
widow  and  her  son  must  abide  by  it.  Mr.  Lorimer 
had  died  at  a  very  inconvenient  moment  for  the 
business  ;  in  fact,  his  demise,  occurring  when  it  did, 
probably  cost  the  firm  some  thousands  of  pounds. 
Further  expense  on  his  behalf  Mr.  Theodore,  who 
had  lately  married,  would  not  incur.  The  widow  and 
her  son  must  help  themselves  and  look  heavenward 
rather  than  to  Theodore  &  Frere  for  additional 
assistance.  The  widow  drooped  and  soon  died,  after 


(Srassboppers. 

which  Dick  had  an  income  of  seventy  pounds  all  io 
himself.  At  this  period  of  his  life  he  was  fond  of 
rowing.  He  played  billiards  well,  and  he  possessed 
a  bull  pup.  Mr.  Theodore  said  that  such  tastes  were 
incompatible  with  a  mercantile  career,  and  when 
Dick  asked  his  advice  he  waved  him  politely  out  of 
the  private  office.  He  had  been  greatly  annoyed  by 
Dick's  refusal  to  accept  a  clerkship  with  a  Jewish 
firm  in  Sierra  Leone.  To  have  your  benefits  forgot- 
ten is  not  so  provoking  as  to  have  them  refused  with 
contumely.  Moreover,  Dick  seemed  to  think  his 
income  a  small  one  ;  and  he  said  that  he  could  not 
do  a  day's  work  on  an  empty  stomach,  even  after 
hearing  that  Mr.  Theodore's  father  had  never 
afforded  himself  any  lunch  until  he  was  earning  a 
thousand  a  year.  Finally,  Mr.  Theodore  said  out- 
right that  he  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  Dick  in 
business,  though  he  would  always  be  pleased  to  meet 
him  in  society. 

Dick  soon  saw  that  it  would  be  very  difficult  to 
make  a  start  in  London.  The  only  business  men  he 
knew  were  known  still  better  to  Mr.  Theodore,  and 
went  to  him  for  the  young  man's  character.  Rowing, 
billiards,  bull  pups  !  A  gentleman  with  such  tastes 
may  be  asked  into  your  drawing  room,  but  not  into 
your  office. 

But  Dick  had  qualities  that  carry  a  man  through 
many  difficulties,  and  in  Mr.  Frere  he  found  a  steady 
friend.  It  was  he  who  advised  the  young  man  to  go 
to  America,  and  who  gave  him  some  valuable  intro- 
ductions there.  Dick  did  well  from  the  beginning, 
and  had  come  back  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven  with  a 
small  capital,  the  best  of  reputations,  and  every  pros- 
pect of  making  his  way  in  the  world.  He  now  said 
that  he  would  always  be  pleased  to  do  business  with 
Mr.  Theodore,  but  that  he  preferred  not  to  meet  him 
in  society. 

Dick's  circumstances  were  not  exactly  easy  yet. 
Mr.  Frere,  who  knew  his  affairs,  understood  that  he 
would  have  uncommonly  little  to  spend  for  some 


•fcerr  1>ansen.  27 

time  to  come.  Nevertheless,  nothing  would  have 
pleased  him  better  than  to  see  Hilary  and  Dick  en- 
gaged. He  was  not  as  ambitious  for  his  children  as 
his  wife  was.  Mere  happiness  would  have  contented 
him.  She  had  set  her  heart  on  wealth  and  position. 
But  then,  as  Hilary  would  have  said,  a  woman  plants 
her  standard  high. 

At  dinner  Hilary  sat  between  Herr  Hansen  and 
Dick.  She  had  never  been  out  of  England,  and  had 
hardly  ever  eaten  a  meal  in  the  society  of  a  foreigner. 
Like  all  true  Britons,  she  felt  genuine  contempt  for 
those  graceless  persons  whose  habits  differed  from 
her  own  ;  and  Herr  Hansen's  table  manners  gave  her 
a  succession  of  little  shocks.  The  first  thing  he  did 
was  to  tuck  his  napkin  comfortably  into  his  waistcoat. 
Hilary  watched  him  as  if  she  expected  that  he  would 
proceed  to  tuck  up  his  sleeves.  He  did  not  do  that, 
but  his  neighbors  could  hear  him  lap  his  soup.  He 
helped  himself  to  extraordinary  quantities  of  any 
dish  that  was  handed  round ;  he  paid  her  mother 
compliments  on  every  one  that  pleased  him  ;  and  when 
his  portion  required  a  knife  and  fork,  he  cut  the  whole 
of  it  into  good-sized  pieces  before  he  began  to  eat. 

"  This  mayonnaise  is  very  good,"  he  said  to  Hilary. 
"  Did  you  make  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Hilary,  without  expressing  the  surprise 
she  felt. 

"  Could  you  make  it  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Ah  !  that  is  a  pity." 

Hilary  smiled  faintly  and  drank  a  little  champagne. 
Then  she  turned  to  Dick  Lorimer,  but  he  was  discuss- 
ing the  boom  in  the  South  African  market  with  her 
father.  Arthur  Preston  and  Nell  were  absorbed  in 
each  other,  and  now  Mrs.  Frere,  observing  Herr 
Hansen's  silence,  drew  him  into  a  prolonged  discus- 
sion of  the  Hamburg  cuisine.  Hilary  wished  herself 
back  at  St.  Cyprian's,  where  everyone  dined  in  less 
than  twenty  minutes,  and  neither  knew  nor  cared 
very  much  what  they  had  for  dinner. 


28  Cbe  <5ra0sbopper0. 


The  talk  did  not  become  general  until  a  savory 
arrived  that  stirred  Herr  Hansen  to  comment  on  its 
excellence,  and  at  the  same  time  express  his  low 
opinion  of  English  cooking.  From  the  solemnity 
with  which  he  spoke  he  might  have  been  condemning 
our  national  morals.  He  said  that  he  always  went 
down  in  weight  during  his  annual  visit  to  this  country. 
Arthur  Preston,  who  spoke  of  himself  as  "  up  to  date," 
glanced  at  Herr  Hansen's  figure  and  asked  him  if  he 
did  not  find  a  course  of  semi-starvation  wholesome. 
The  good-natured  German  smiled  and  blinked  and 
said  that  it  might  be  wholesome,  but  he  did  not  enjoy 
it.  He  put  it  to  his  hostess  :  Could  anyone  with  a 
palate  acquire  a  taste  for  mint  sauce  or,  worse  still, 
for  rhubarb  ?  He  told  her  a  long  story  that  turned 
on  his  repugnance  to  rabbit,  and  his  disgust  when  he 
found  that  he  had  eaten  some  unawares  in  a  stew. 
Then  Mr.  Frere  and  Dick  took  up  the  cudgels  on 
behalf  of  beefsteak,  porter,  and  a  roast  duck  stuffed 
with  sage  and  onions.  Foreign  messes  made  them 
ill,  they  said.  There  was  some  sense  in  mint  sauce 
and  rhubarb,  but  who  out  of  a  nightmare  wanted  to 
eat  raw  herrings,  raw  ham,  and  vinegar  with  green 
pease.  Herr  Hansen  said  that  Dick  could  not  know 
Hamburg.  Civilization  and  nature  had  combined  to 
make  that  chosen  town  a  center  for  epicures.  The 
best  goulash  he  had  ever  tasted  had  been  dished  up 
to  him  in  a  Hamburg  hotel. 

"  Do  you  know  Hamburg  ?  "  he  said,  turning  to 
Hilary.  "  You  should  come  there  this  summer." 

"I  think  we  are  going  to  Switzerland,"  said  Hilary. 

"  Switzerland  is  nothing.  What  can  you  do  there  ? 
They  make  meringues  —  the  Swiss  cooks  —  and  then 
they  have  finished.  I  know.  I  have  been  there." 

Hilary  sent  her  mother  an  imploring  glance,  to 
which  Mrs.  Frere  replied  by  getting  up  from  table. 

"  Herr  Hansen  talks  a  good  deal  about  food," 
said  Mrs.  Frere  apologetically.  "  People  do  in  Ger- 
many, you  know." 

"  It  seems  such  a  pity  he  wasn't  born  a  pig,"  said 


t>err  f>ansen.  29 

Hilary,  going  to  the  piano.  "  He  would  have  been 
far  happier." 

Mrs.  Frere  looked  distressed,  but  her  reply  was 
inaudible  to  Hilary,  who  had  begun  to  play.  Nell 
went  out  on  the  veranda,  and  before  she  had  been 
there  very  long,  Arthur  Preston  joined  her.  He  was 
a  good-looking  young  fellow,  and  the  only  son  of 
moderately  well-to-do  people.  His  sentiment  for 
Nell  was  plain  to  everyone,  especially  plain  to  his 
mother,  who  desired  her  son  to  make  a  wealthy 
match.  It  was  a  light  and  butterfly  courtship,  begun 
to  a  waltz  tune,  and  growing  more  ardent  as  the 
summer  days  grew  longer.  They  met  at  dances,  at 
dinners,  at  the  play.  Of  late  he  had  come  in  two  or 
three  times  a  week  for  a  game  of  tennis  after  his  day 
on  the  Stock  Exchange,  and  whenever  Mrs.  Frere 
asked  him  to  stay  and  dine  he  managed  to  be  dis- 
engaged. She  could  not  understand  why  he  had  not 
long  since  settled  matters  ;  he  was  making  a  respect- 
able little  income  she  had  heard.  She  did  not  know 
that  he  spent  every  penny  of  it,  and  could  not  think 
of  marriage  with  a  dowerless  wife.  In  fact,  he  did 
not  think  of  marriage  at  all  just  yet.  He  wanted  to 
enjoy  his  bachelor  life  to  the  dregs.  T,  his  summer 
his  flirtation  with  Nell  gave  it  an  agreeable  zest.  He 
assured  himself  that  he  was  immensely  in  love  with 
her,  and  he  tried  his  best  to  convince  her  of  it  too. 
Everyone  who  knew  them  said  they  expected  a  speedy 
invitation  to  the  wedding  ;  but  those  who  knew 
Arthur  best  did  not  mean  what  they  said. 

This  evening  the  two  young  people  sat  together  on 
the  veranda  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  they  de- 
scended to  the  garden,  where  for  the  next  half  hour 
they  appeared  and  disappeared  like  Faust  and  Mar- 
garet among  the  trees. 

When  the  other  men  came  away  from  the  dining 
room  they  found  Mrs.  Frere  fast  asleep  in  an  easy- 
chair,  and  Hilary  by  herself  on  the  veranda  wrapped 
in  a  fluffy  white  shawl.  Dick  Lorimer  managed 
to  reach  her  first  and  sit  down  by  her  side.  Herr 


3°  Gbe  <5ras0bopper0. 

Hansen  stood  within  the  window  and  talked  to  his 
host  in  German.  Presently  they  too  descended  to  the 
garden  and  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  lawn, 
lighting  fresh  cigars  and  talking  of  business  matters 
in  high  voices  that  sometimes  fell  to  a  significant 
whisper. 

Hilary  had  always  liked  Dick  Lorimer.  She 
thought  she  might  like  him  better  than  ever  now  that 
through  her  advance  in  years  they  could  meet  on 
equal  terms.  It  was  a  little  bit  disappointing  to  find 
as  she  talked  to  him  that  he  had  not  stood  still,  that 
he  was  even  yet  ahead  of  her.  Half  a  decade,  that  to 
her  had  brought  such  great  and  weighty  changes, 
seemed  also  to  have  done  a  good  deal  for  him.  He 
had  arrived  with  strides  at  manhood.  Hilary  envied 
him  the  lines  in  his  face.  They  had  been  graven 
there  by  experiences  that  help  to  crystallize  and  to 
mature.  His  eyes  were  as  keen  and  good-humored  as 
ever,  but  his  manner  was  more  assured. 

What  did  they  talk  of  as  they  sat  together  and 
watched  the  moon  rise  high  above  the  tall  elms  at  the 
bottom  of  the  garden  ?  Certainly  most  of  the  pleas- 
ant talk  in  which  we  share,  to  which  we  listen,  would 
not  bear  writing  down.  Besides,  consider  how  small 
a  part  spoken  words  play  in  any  conversation.  You 
pick  up  the  threads  of  an  old  friendship  with  the  aid 
of  your  manners,  your  voices,  your  eyes,  your  smiles 
and  frowns  ?  Who  stops  to  give  more  than  its  due  to 
a  tongue  ?  Dick  and  Hilary  told  each  other  where 
they  had  spent  the  years,  and,  in  a  bare,  colorless 
way,  what  they  had  been  doing  the  while.  Hilary 
mentioned  St.  Cyprian's,  spoke  of  her  schooldays, 
talked  of  her  best  girl  friend  ;  and  all  this  Dick  had 
clean  forgotten  by  the  following  morning.  What 
he  remembered  was  that  she  had  grown  tall  and  slim 
and  lovely,  and  that  her  eyes  were  like  stars,  and 
that  her  voice  was  sweet  and  sometimes  quaintly 
solemn,  and  that  she  still  looked  rather  childlike. 
Her  eyes  had  not  lost  their  direct  and  candid 
gaze.  He  observed  that  she  dressed  outlandishly, 


f>ert  "fcansem  31 

but  that  it  somehow  became  her,  and  he  thought  she 
had  not  lost  her  old  trick  of  talking  nonsense.  For 
instance,  she  asked  him  whether  he  saw  any  good 
reason  why  everyone  should  not  be  equally  well  off 
and  at  leisure,  and  she  expounded  a  scheme  for 
the  accomplishment  of  this  most  desirable  end  that 
was  very  pretty  and  left  out  difficulties  as  naively  as 
a  dream  or  a  fairy  tale.  Dick  said  something  about 
the  reform  of  the  universe  being  a  big  job,  and  she 
got  quite  angry  with  him,  because  she  said  he  implied 
that  it  was  too  big  for  her,  and  that  he  only  said  so 
because  she  was  a  girl.  If  a  boy  had  proposed 
to  undertake  it,  he  would  have  at  any  rate  listened 
with  respect,  Dick  denied  this  last  impeachment,  and 
they  had  a  lively  quarrel,  talked  up  and  down  the 
questions  of  the  hour,  and  found  themselves  after 
a  time  almost  on  their  former  level  of  intimate 
friendship.  For  once  Hilary's  dilettante  socialism 
had  really  done  her  a  useful  turn.  They  had  fringed 
round  a  variety  of  subjects,  and  Hilary  had  just 
listened  with  an  expression  of  horror  to  Dick's  admis- 
sion that  he  liked  a  day's  shooting,  when  Mrs.  Frere 
came  out  to  them  and  said  that  it  was  time  to  have 
a  little  music.  Would  Dick  tell  Mr.  Frere  that  the 
grass  looked  damp,  and  that  everyone  wished  to  hear 
Herr  Hansen  play  ? 

Dick  told  both  these  lies  like  a  man,  and  whether 
they  came  willingly  or  not,  everyone  soon  reassembled 
in  the  drawing  room.  Hilary  had  not  heard  Herr 
Hansen  play,  and  as  her  mother's  manner  pointed 
to  something  unusual  she  composed  herself  to  listen 
with  enjoyment.  The  very  way  his  hands  poised  for 
a  moment  above  the  keys  was  full  of  promise,  and 
directly  they  struck  a  few  preliminary  chords  Hilary 
understood  that  the  man  was  a  musician.  He  began 
with  a  little  gigue  of  Bach's  that  he  played  with 
brilliance  and  precision.  He  went  on  to  Beethoven, 
and  then,  at  Mrs.  Frere's  request,  he  played  Chopin's 
great  Polonaise  in  A  flat  major.  The  stir  of  it 
danced  in  Hilary's  eyes  as  she  thanked  him.  She 


32  Cbe  Orassboppers. 

forgot  that  he  had  talked  about  food  all  through 
dinner.  The  crash  of  the  great  chords  rang  in  her 
ears  and  sent  the  blood  with  a  lilt  through  her  veins. 
Everyone  looked  roused. 

"  You  like  music  ? "  said  Herr  Hansen,  with  a 
pleased  face,  to  Hilary.  He  was  panting  a  little,  and 
as  he  sat  down  near  her  he  mopped  his  forehead  with 
his  handkerchief.  "  In  England  there  is  no  music,  is 
there  ? " 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Hilary  and  Nell  together.  "  No 
music  in  London  !  " 

"  You  mean  concerts.  You  must  put  on  a  black 
coat  and  a  white  shirt  and  drive  three  miles.  I  do 
not  call  that  music.  You  hear  Joachim,  you  say,  and 
Paderewski.  Yes.  That  is  very  fine,  of  course  ;  but 
in  Hamburg  my  friends  come  two  or  three  times  every 
week.  We  drink  beer,  we  smoke,  we  take  off  our 
coats,  and  we  play  trios,  quartettes,  quintettes,  what 
you  will,  for  several  hours.  That  is  what  I  call 
music — what  one  makes  at  home  in  one's  own  rooms 
with  a  few  good  friends.  So  you  find  the  great 
masters  your  good  friends — in  time." 

Hilary  began  to  like  Herr  Hansen  in  spite  of  his 
clumsy  ways.  One  of  those  discussions  arose  between 
them  that  are  often  started  by  people  of  different 
nationalities,  and  gradually  everyone  present  joined 
in  it.  Whether  the  English  are  musical  or  not  is  a 
question  that  will  at  any  moment  excite  contradictory 
replies.  Herr  Hansen  made  no  bones  about  his 
negative. 

"  I  dined  with  some  people  yesterday,"  he  said, 
"  and  after  dinner  they  asked  me  if  I  liked  music.  I 
said  '  Yes.'  What  else  could  I  say  ?  There  were 
seven  daughters,  and  they  all  sang  to  me." 

Herr  Hansen  paused,  overcome  by  his  memories. 

"  The  piano  was  out  of  tune.  They  did  not  mind 
that  at  all.  They  were  all  out  of  tune  too.  And  the 
songs!  Mein  lieber  Gott !  Who  makes  these  songs 
that  your  English  young  ladies  sing?  " 

Hilary  and  Nell  still  maintained  that  you  could  hear 


ttcrr  tiansen.  33 

as  much  good  music  in  London  as  anywhere  else  ; 
and  Dick  Lorimer,  who  did  not  know  one  tune  from 
another,  upheld  them.  Mrs.  Frere  assured  Herr 
Hansen  that  her  daughters  talked  without  book. 
They  did  not  know  Germany.  Some  day  they  would 
go  there  and  discover  how  superior  it  is  in  every 
respect  to  the  land  of  their  birth.  Much  to  the 
amusement  of  her  family,  Mrs.  Frere  talked  in  this 
way  now  and  then.  She  had  lived  contentedly  in 
England  for  more  than  half  her  life,  and  she  had 
reared  her  children  to  be  English  in  habits,  opinions, 
and  prejudices  ;  yet  she  would  now  and  then  speak  as 
if  her  adopted  country  was  still  strange  and  hateful  in 
her  sight.  It  did  not  mean  much. 

Nell  said  that  she  felt  quite  afraid  to  sing  in  Herr 
Hansen's  presence-,  but  at  Arthur  Preston's  request 
she  went  to  the  piano.  While  she  was  turning  over 
her  music,  Herr  Hansen  said  to  Hilary  in  a  confi- 
dential undertone  : 

"  There  is  a  good  German  opera  at  Covent  Garden 
just  now.  Will  you  come  with  me  ?  On  Saturday 
they  give  '  Lohengrin.'  I  will  call  for  you,  if  you  will 
permit  it." 

"  Do  you  take  out  your  friends'  daughters  in  that 
way  when  you  are  in  Hamburg  ?  "  said  Hilary,  after 
some  hesitation.  He  looked  so  unconscious  of  having 
suggested  anything  impossible  that  she  did  not  like 
to  refuse  point-blank. 

"  In  Hamburg  ?  No.  A  girl  may  not  stir  from  her 
mother's  side  there.  But  in  England  and  America 
it  is  different.  And  you — a  so  learned  young- 
lady.  You  will  come  ?  In  New  York  I  took  Miss 
Van  Riesling  three  times  ;  and  now  she  has  married 
a  Member  of  Congress.  So,  you  see,  what  she  did  you 
may  do." 

"I'm  afraid  not,"  said  Hilary.  '-We  are  quite 
behindhand  here,  you  know.  We  are  only  remote 
islanders." 

Herr  Hansen  looked  dreadfully  disappointed,  until 
a  new  idea  occurred  to  him  and  cheered  him  up. 


34  Gbe  Grasshoppers. 

"  I  will  get  a  box,"  he  said  ;  "  then  you  will  all 
come." 

The  plan  did  not  commend  itself  to  Hilary,  who, 
along  with  her  advanced  ideas,  cherished  some  preju- 
dices that  many  of  her  contemporaries  would  have 
condemned  as  prim  and  Puritan.  She  was  not  fond 
of  accepting  pleasures  from  anyone  but  her  father,  and 
she  knew  that  Mr.  Frere  shared  her  point  of  view.  So 
she  sent  Herr  Hansen  to  consult  with  him,  well  know- 
ing that  in  this  way  the  project  would  fall  to  the 
ground. 

Directly  Dick  Lorimer  saw  his  chance  he  strolled 
up  to  Hilary,  and  took  the  seat  that  Herr  Hansen  had 
just  vacated. 

"  Shall  we  have  a  walk  on  Sunday  ? "  he  said. 
"In  the  old  style?8' 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Hilary  delightedly,  "  in  the  old 
style." 

"  All  right.     I'll  come  round  quite  early." 

"You  have  arranged  with  the  others,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Nell  doesn't  seem  to  care  about  it,"  said  Dick, 
looking  at  his  boots.  "  She  says  Preston  is  coming  to 
play  tennis." 

"  And  papa  ?  " 

"Well — if  his  rheumatism  is  better.  But  you 
and  I  might  go  anyhow,  Hilary ;  such  old  friends  as  we 
are." 

"  Old  enemies,  you  mean." 

"  It  comes  to  the  same  thing,"  said  Dick. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MRS.    THEODORE    AT    HOME. 

MR.  FRERE'S  present  partner  was  a  good  deal 
younger  than  himself.  He  was  an  elder  brother  of 
the  little  girls  who  had  once  upon  a  time  learned 
German  and  music  from  Mrs.  Frere.  His  father,  Mr. 
Lazarus  Theodore,  a  German  Jew,  had  clung  with 
strong  attachment  to  the  ways  of  his  youth.  The  son 
was  over  anxious  to  forget  them.  His  father  had  left 
him  a  thriving  business,  which  he  carried  on  success- 
fully, and  a  handsome  fortune,  which  he  soon  doubled 
by  clever  speculation.  At  the  age  of  thirty-three  he 
married  an  English  girl,  whose  acquaintance  he  made 
at  a  hydropathic  hotel  in  Derbyshire.  Mr.  Theodore 
thought  that  the  youngest  daughter  of  a  half-pay 
major  would  be  economical  in  her  habits  ;  but  he 
soon  found  that  his  wife  spent  money  as  if  life  was 
hardly  long  enough  to  compensate  her  for  the  priva- 
tions of  her  early  years.  Luckily,  even  she  could  not 
keep  pace  with  her  husband's  knack  of  raking  money 
into  his  own  till.  They  were  a  very  flourishing  couple. 
Mrs.  Theodore  stanchly  upheld  her  husband  in  his 
resolve  to  forget  his  foreign  origin.  They  spelled  and 
spoke  their  name  as  if  it  had  been  an  English  one,  and 
they  avoided  those  old  acquaintances  who  would  not 
remember  to  utter  the  initial  consonants  softly,  and 
to  affix  a  final  <?.  Mrs.  Frere  gave  constant  offense 
by  her  persistent  use  of  the  ancient  spelling  and  pro- 
nunciation. It  was  one  of  many  trifles  that  helped  to 
widen  a  breach.  The  two  men  did  not  pull  well 
together  ;  but  their  wives  fell  out  whenever  they  met, 
and  often  when  they  only  corresponded.  For  this 
unfortunate  state  of  things  Mrs.  Frere  was  chiefly 

35 


responsible.  She  took  no  pains  to  hide  her  small 
opinion  of  Mrs.  Theodore  ;  she  treated  her  preten- 
sions with  disrespectful  levity  ;  and,  ignoring  the  cue 
set  by  the  younger  lady,  she  sometimes  chose  to  be 
plain-spoken  instead  of  politely  silent.  After  this 
admission,  of  course,  no  one  will  sympathize  with  Mrs. 
Frere.  Plain-spoken  folks  are  always  a  cross  to  their 
fellows,  and  one  who  is  intimately  acquainted  with 
your  family  history  is  tolerably  certain  to  make  you 
uncomfortable  sometimes.  Mrs.  Frere  knew  that  Mr. 
Theodore's  grandfather  had  kept  a  small  shop  in 
Hamburg,  and  she  unkindly  wondered  what  the  old 
man  would  have  said  to  Mrs.  Stanley  Theodore's 
court  train.  She  did  not  ask  the  question  aloud,  but 
Mrs.  Theodore  saw  it  in  her  smile  when  she  came  to 
the  train  tea.  Women  do  most  of  their  hard  hitting 
with  smiles. 

Hilary  found,  on  her  return  from  college,  that  Mrs. 
Theodore  had  invited  them  all  to  an  At  Home  for  the 
following  Saturday,  and  that  Mrs.  Frere  alternately 
bemoaned  the  necessity  of  going,  and  besought  her 
daughters  to  make  a  creditable  appearance  there. 

"  Be  sure  and  go  to  bed  early  the  night  before, 
dears,  and  take  a  little  walk  in  the  morning.  It  makes 
such  a  difference  to  the  complexion.  And  don't  use 
powder,  Nell.  Wash  your  face  in  cold  water,  and 
polish  it  with  a  chamois  leather.  I  know  Mr.  Theo- 
dore wants  his  sister  Sophia  to  marry  Arthur  Preston." 

"  Oh,  well  !  mamma,  don't  worry.  There  are  two 
to  every  bargain,"  said  Nell  cheerfully. 

"  That  only  shows  how  little  you  know  of  the  world, 
my  dear.  Besides,  there  are  three  in  this  case  :  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Theodore  and  Sophia.  You  don't  suppose 
Arthur's  consent  is  necessary." 

"  How  old  is  Sophia  Theodore  ? " 

"  Twenty-five.  The  other  day  Mrs.  Theodore  tried 
to  make  out  that  Sophia  and  Hilary  were  the  same 
age,  but  I  soon  set  her  right.  I  said  :  '  My  dear  Mrs. 
Theodore,  I  was  at  her  christening  four  years  before 
my  own  marriage,  and  sixteen  years  before  you  and 


.  GbeoDore  at  tome.  37 

your  good  husband  met  each  other.'  She  did  not  like 
it  at  all." 

"Then  why  did  you  say  it,  mamma?"  inquired 
Hilary. 

Of  course,  the  Theodores  lived  in  a  very  different 
style  from  the  Freres.  They  inhabited  one  of  those 
large  new  houses  on  the  north  side  of  Kensington 
Gardens  that  make  such  a  good  show  for  the  money. 
Some  of  the  most  expensive  houses  in  London  are 
quiet  and  dull-looking ;  but  the  Theodore  mansion 
was  a  big,  white,  shining  witness  to  the  owner's  inex- 
haustible purse.  As  the  Freres  drove  to  the  door, 
Hilary  looked  up  at  the  front,  which  had  just  been 
redecorated.  All  the  windows  were  gay  with  pea- 
cock-blue Minton  tiles  and  pink  geraniums.  There 
was  an  awning  over  the  first-floor  balcony,  and  another 
from  the  front  door  to  the  edge  of  the  pavement.  A 
string  of  carriages  blocked  the  way.  Inside  the  house 
the  crush  was  considerable  already.  Above  the  hum 
of  voices  Hilary  heard  a  Hungarian  band  playing  in 
a  conservatory  halfway  upstairs,  and  scraps  of  con- 
versation reached  her  with  absurd  incompleteness. 
She  did  not  see  anyone  she  knew. 

Mrs.  Theodore  stood  just  inside  the  drawing-room 
door  and  received  her  guests.  As  the  Freres  went 
upstairs  to  present  themselves  to  their  hostess,  Mrs. 
Frere  nudged  her  eldest  daughter  : 

"  Another  new  gown,"  she  whispered.  "  It  doesn't 
suit  her  a  bit." 

Hilary  raised  her  eyes,  and  was  not  at  all  astonished 
to  see  Mrs.  Theodore  most  becomingly  attired.  She 
knew  her  mother's  way  of  denying  the  little  triumphs 
she  felt  inclined  to  grudge.  Their  hostess  looked  the 
very  figure  of  fashion.  Her  shape,  her  features,  and 
her  inexpressive  smile  all  lent  themselves  to  the  attain- 
ment of  this  great  end.  She  was  tall  and  angular, 
with  a  back  as  flat  as  a  pastry-board,  and  a  waist  nearly 
as  small  as  her  neck.  She  had  fair  hair,  elaborately 
curled  and  coiled,  good  features,  and  rather  hard  blue 
eyes.  She  stood  bolt  upright,  moved  very  little,  and 


38  Gbe  (Srassboppers. 


talked  with  a  slight  Yorkshire  accent  in  a  low  con- 
tralto voice.  As  she  talked  her  eyes  wandered,  so 
that  the  people  who  replied  to  her  remarks  usually 
felt  uncertain  whether  their  own  were  heard.  She 
received  Mrs.  Frere  without  enthusiasm  ;  the  girls, 
who  were  prettily  dressed,  she  greeted  amiably  enough. 
Mrs.  Frere's  gowns,  it  is  true,  had  an  air  of  being 
made  two  years  ago.  The  cleverness  with  which  she 
chose  becoming  raiment  for  her  daughters  never 
seemed  to  last  out  for  herself. 

"How  full  the  room  is!"  she  said,  as  she  shook 
hands. 

"  The  usual  crowd,"  said  Mrs.  Theodore. 

"  Don't  you  find  it  tiring  ?  " 

"  Very.  But  what  can  one  do  ?  I  have  nearly 
a  thousand  names  on  my  visiting  list.  I  have  stood 
here  since  four  o'clock.  I  can  understand  what  the 
poor  Princess  feels  like  at  the  end  of  a  Drawing- 
Room.  " 

"  Only  you  are  not  obliged  to  do  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Frere. 

This  was  an  indisputable  fact,  and  yet  it  annoyed 
Mrs.  Theodore  to  hear  it  brought  forward  by  Mrs. 
Frere.  The  actual  words  did  not  vex  her  so  much 
as  the  belittling  of  her  social  dignity  that  she  heard 
behind  them.  With  an  air  of  dislike  she  turned 
away  from  the  Freres  and  gave  her  attention  to 
some  new  arrivals,  one  of  whom  proved  to  be  Herr 
Hansen. 

"Look,  Hilary,"  whispered  Mrs.  Frere.  "She 
means  him  to  marry  Sophia.  I'm  sure  of  it.  He 
is  very  rich,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  see  Sophia  here,"  said  Hilary,  looking 
round  the  room. 

"  I  do,"  said  Nell,  who  was  standing  further  in. 
"She  is  talking  to  Arthur  Preston." 

"  I  told  you  so,"  sighed  Mrs.  Frere. 

Sophia  Theodore  was  an  exceedingly  plain  young 
woman  who,  in  spite  of  her  thirty  thousand  pounds,  had 
reached  the  age  of  twenty-five  without  being  married. 


.  tlbeofcore  at  l)ome.  39 

Proposals  of  marriage  had,  of  course,  been  made  to 
her  and  her  comfortable  little  fortune,  but  not  from 
eligible  quarters.  She  was  so  very  plain,  poor  girl ! 
Formerly  she  had  dressed  badly,  and  displayed  a 
clumsy  figure,  but  of  late  her  clever  sister-in-law  had 
taken  her  in  hand.  This  afternoon,  for  instance,  in 
an  exquisite  and  becoming  Parisian  gown,  she  looked 
quite  passable.  In  some  miraculous  fashion  the 
milliners  had  turned  her  out  almost  slender.  Never- 
theless, you  would  not  have  expected  to  find  that 
Sophia  was  a  lion  in  Mrs.  Frere's  path.  Of  course, 
thirty  thousand  pounds  deserves  consideration. 
Every  sensible  man  will  admit  that.  But  you  must 
remember  that  most  of  the  young  men  known  to 
the  Freres  were  neither  idle  nor  poor.  They  were 
men  of  rather  substantial  fortunes,  who  by  their  own 
exertions  made  more  than  enough  for  their  needs 
every  year.  A  thriving  merchant  or  stockbroker  is 
not  so  much  driven  to  run  after  a  wife  with  a  little 
money  as  a  man  whose  income  is  limited  and  unlikely 
to  increase.  The  daily  pursuit  of  the  yellow  slave  has 
its  compensations.  Your  successful  jobber  can  afford 
to  marry  for  love,  while  the  captain  and  the  curate, 
when  they  tire  of  bachelor  life,  generally  have  to 
choose  between  love  and  money.  It  is  a  lucky  man 
to  whom  one  maid  brings  both.  Mrs.  Frere  would 
gladly  have  seen  Sophia  marry  a  captain  or  a  curate. 
She  did  not  covet  alliances  for  her  daughters  in  the 
impecunious  professions.  Mothers  have  their  fancies 
in  these  matters,  according  to  their  station  in  life  and 
their  personal  characteristics.  Some  hanker  after 
the  cloth,  and  others  after  the  scarlet.  This  woman 
expects  a  title  with  her  son-in-law,  that  woman  would 
like  him  to  ply  his  own  coster's  cart.  They  are  both 
women,  and  both  ambitious — at  opposite  ends  of  the 
scale.  Mrs.  Frere  had  set  her  heart  on  a  well-to-do 
business  man,  and  whenever  an  eligible  one  made  his 
appearance,  she  feared  lest  Mrs.  Theodore  should 
snap  him  up  and  throw  him  to  Sophia. 

By  steadily  moving  on  a  step  or  two  whenever  the 


4°  Sbe  (Brassboppers. 

crowd  broke  a  little,  the  three  ladies  managed,  in  the 
course  of  half  an  hour,  to  get  across  the  room. 
After  a  time,  some  people  who  were  "going  on" 
took  their  departure,  and  left  two  vacant  chairs  of 
which  Mrs.  Frere  and  Hilary  gladly  availed  them- 
selves. Before  this  happened,  Arthur  Preston  had 
forsaken  the  redoubtable  Sophia  and  invited  Nell  to 
come  and  eat  ices  downstairs.  Hilary  wished  a  friend 
would  invite  her  to  do  likewise.  The  heat  made  her 
thirsty.  Presently  a  little  hubbub,  and  then  a  sudden 
hush,  warned  her  that  someone  was  about  to  enter- 
tain the  company  with  a  song  or  a  recitation  ;  and  Mr. 
Theodore,  who  had  just  arrived,  proclaimed  in  a  loud 
voice  that  Miss  Miranda  Marshmallow  would  recite 
"  Maud  Miiller."  The  audience  pushed  back  a  little, 
and  a  homely  young  woman  came  forward.  For  a 
moment  she  glared  fixedly  at  nothing  in  particular, 
and  then  with  a  sudden  swoop  she  swept  her  hands 
along  the  floor,  as  if  she  had  dropped  her  gloves 
and  was  too  short-sighted  to  see  them.  With  this 
dramatic  gesture  she  prepared  the  people  to  hear 
that  "Maud  Miiller,  on  a  summer's  day,  raked  the 
meadow  sweet  with  hay." 

Inconsiderate  people  are  fond  of  throwing  ridicule 
on  the  pathetic  reciter,  but,  after  all,  he  has  his  uses. 
Most  of  us  know  what  it  is  to  walk  away  from  the 
dentist  with  the  bad  quarter  of  an  hour  behind. 
Some  trials  are  almost  worth  enduring  for  the  sake 
of  the  joy  that  enters  the  soul  when  they  cease. 
After  angels,  represented  by  Miss  Marshmallow, 
had  "  rolled  the  stone  from  its  grave  away,"  every- 
one looked  relieved  and  began  to  talk.  A  wave  of 
extra  cheerfulness  succeeded  the  enforced  silence  of 
the  last  ten  minutes,  and  the  hostess  had  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  all  the  guests  in  good  spirits.  She  felt 
sincerely  grateful  to  Miss  Marshmallow. 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  complained  Herr  Hansen, 
who  had  planted  himself  behind  Hilary's  chair  some 
moments  before  the  recitation  began.  "  Why  do  all 
these  people  come  here  this  afternoon  ?  They  do 


flfcrs.  CbeoDore  at  t)ome.  41 

not  dance.  They  do  not  make  music.  They  do  not 
dine  or  sup." 

"  They  come  to  see  Mrs.  Theodore,"  said  Hilary. 
"  They  are  her  friends." 

"  She  has  many  friends,"  said  Herr  Hansen  reflec- 
tively. "  Ah  !  I  suppose  these  young  ladies  will  sing 
a  trio  ? " 

There  was  a  little  flutter  of  excitement  in  the  room 
just  then,  because  three  sisters,  known  to  their  cronies 
as  Nipper,  Dick,  and  Tommy,  came  forward  and  took 
their  positions  for  a  skirt  dance.  They  were  pres- 
ently succeeded  by  a  young  lady,  who  had  blackened 
her  face  and  dressed  in  stripes  to  pipe  a  nigger 
melody  to  the  banjo  ;  and  when  she  retired  Mrs. 
Theodore's  eldest  son  sang  a  coster  song,  with  a 
chorus,  in  which  numbers  of  his  mother's  guests  were 
pleased  to  join. 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Herr  Hansen.  "  In  one  cor- 
ner of  my  invitation  card  there  is  printed  '  Music.'  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Hilary,  "this  is  it." 

After  the  coster  song,  which  was  rapturously 
applauded,  a  good  many  people  went  away,  and  Mrs. 
Frere  listened  to  Hilary's  suggestion  that  they,  too, 
had  been  there  long  enough.  But  before  they  could 
start,  Nell  must,  of  course,  be  found. 

"She  is  sure  to  be  near  the  ices,"  said  Hilary.  "  I 
will  fetch  her." 

As  she  walked  away  Herr  Hansen  dropped  ponder- 
ously into  the  empty  chair. 

"  Do  you  know  that  your  daughter  is  a  beauty  ?  " 
he  said  to  Mrs.  Frere. 

She  was  not  offended,  or  even  surprised.  Praise 
from  a  man  of  his  fortunes  was  praise  indeed  ;  and 
although  Mrs.  Frere  had  left  her  native  country  at  an 
early  age,  she  remembered  how  to  converse  engagingly 
with  one  of  her  countrymen. 

"  Hilary  is  not  only  beautiful,"  she  said,  "  she  it 
clever  and  good.  When  she  is  away  from  home 
we  miss  her  dreadfully.  And  she  trims  her  own 
hats." 


4-  vibe  (Brassboppers. 

"  It  is  a  pity  she  is  learned.  Why  did  you  per- 
mit it  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  her  learning  amounts  to  much,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere,  who  was  very  far  from  knowing  how 
truthfully  she  spoke.  "Girls  will  have  their  fads  and 
fancies.  Before  I  married  I  devoted  myself  to  music  ; 
but  I  soon  found  that  my  housekeeping  books  occupied 
more  of  my  time  than  Beethoven's  Sonatas." 

If  Mr.  Frere  could  have  heard  his  wife  make  this 
statement,  he  would  probably  have  felt  surprised  ;  but 
Herr  Hansen  listened  to  it  with  attention. 

"Is  it  really  so?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs  Frere  eagerly  ;  "  and  Hilary  is  so 
economical,  you  know.  She  inherits  that  from  me. 
She  goes  about  among  poor  people,  and  teaches  them 
how  to  save  pennies,  and  eat  cheap  food,  and  buy 
plain  clothes.  At  least,  she  did  till  some  of  them  gave 
her  the  measles,  and  I  stopped  it." 

Herr  Hansen  looked  at  Hilary  with  increased 
admiration  when  she  returned  to  the  room  accom- 
panied by  her  sister  ;  and  when  Mrs.  Frere  asked  him 
whether  he  could  drive  back  with  them  and  dine,  he 
accepted  the  invitation  at  once.  This  arrangement 
seemed  to  give  Hilary  the  most  lively  satisfaction,  and 
she  reminded  Herr  Hansen  that  he  had  promised  to 
play  Schumann's  Faschingsschwank  next  time  he 
came.  As  she  crossed  the  room,  Mrs.  Frere  heard 
him  protest  that  he  would  play  anything  and  every- 
thing Hilary  wished  to  hear.  A  few  steps  ahead  she 
saw  Arthur  Preston  hanging  about  in  evident  hopes 
of  an  informal  invitation.  She  managed  to  take  both 
men  back  in  her  brougham,  and  she  felt  that,  on  the 
whole,  the  afternoon  had  not  been  thrown  away.  The 
sight  of  Mr.  Theodore  had,  as  usual,  left  a  bad  taste. 
He  was  a  thin,  light-haired  man,  with  a  curiously  pale 
face,  a  flat,  large  forehead,  and  a  contemptuous  smile. 
Mrs.  Frere  complained  that  he  sneered,  and  perhaps 
he  did.  He  had  a  poor  opinion  of  his  partner's  wife, 
and  no  reason  whatever  for  concealing  it.  This  after- 
noon, for  instance,  he  had  not  troubled  to  speak  to 


dfcrs.  Hbeofcore  at  t>ome,  43 

her,  or  even  to  shake  hands,  until  she  passed  him  on 
her  way  downstairs.  Then  he  inquired  why  her  hus- 
band had  not  come,  and  smiled  when  Mrs.  Frere 
explained  that  he  was  too  busy. 

"  He  ought  to  take  a  holiday  sometimes,"  said  Mr. 
Theodore. 

"  I  wish  he  would.  He  works  much  too  hard,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere,  with  a  sigh. 

"  You  should  persuade  him  to  retire,"  said  Mr. 
Theodore,  with  a  smile  that  Hilary  thought  unpleasant. 
But  his  voice  did  not  invite  retort.  It  was  languid, 
soft,  and  slow,  and  as  he  spoke  he  turned  on  his  heel 
to  speed  some  other  parting  guests.  Mrs.  Frere,  with 
her  two  eligible  bachelors  for  companions,  enjoyed  the 
homeward  drive,  and  did  not  brood  over  Mr.  Theo- 
dore's words  until  the  following  day.  Then  she 
worried  over  them  as  persistently  as  if  they  had  been 
poetry,  and  she  a  commentator,  finding  in  them  appli- 
cations, hints,  and  prophecies  they  would  scarcely 
bear,  and  trying  to  interpret  them  with  the  help  of 
all  she  knew  about  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Theodore,  their 
ancestors,  their  contemporaries,  and  their  probable 
descendants. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HERR  HANSEN'S  COATS. 

MRS.  FRERE  received  a  slight  shock  on  Sunday 
morning  when  Hilary  came  down  ready  dressed  for 
her  walk  with  Dick. 

"  I  wonder  what  Mrs.  Theodore  would  say  if  Sophia 
met  a  young  man  at  a  railway  station  and  spent  a  day 
in  the  country  with  him  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"I've  no  doubt  she  would  be  horrified,"  said  Hilary. 

"  Then  why  do  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  Sophia,  and  Dick  is  not  a  young  man. 
He  is  Dick." 

"  That  certainly  makes  a  difference,"  admitted  Mrs. 
Frere.  "  Still " 

And  she  saw  her  child  depart  with  a  pang.  No  one 
will  deny  that  it  is  exceedingly  trying  to  have  your 
fondest  hopes  raised  one  day,  and  dashed  to  the 
ground  the  next.  Only  the  night  before  Mrs.  Frere 
had  gone  to  bed  in  the  best  of  spirits,  after  assuring 
her  husband  that  six  weeks  or  so  hence  she  would 
probably  require  about  a  thousand  pounds  for  two 
trousseaux  and  a  double  wedding. 

"  I  intend  to  buy  all  the  house  linen  for  both  the 
girls,"  she  said,  as  she  placidly  brushed  her  thick 
blond  hair.  "  Herr  Hansen  will  expect  it,  as  he  is  a 
German  ;  and  although  it  is  not  the  English  custom, 
I  dare  say  Arthur  will  be  glad  to  have  it  given." 

Some  men,  on  hearing  this,  would  have  asked 
whether  their  daughters  were  actually  engaged.  Mr. 
Frere  only  said  that  he  would  be  glad  to  turn  out  the 
gas. 

"  I  should  think  that  Mr.  Preston  would  furnish  a 
house  for  his  son,"  continued  Mrs.  Frere.  "  They 

44 


1>err  "fcansen's  Goats.  45 

would  not  want  a  large  one,  to  begin  with.  Have  you 
noticed  those  new  red  brick  ones  near  Kensington 
High  Street  ?  I  wish  Arthur  would  be  quick  and 
speak." 

In  his  own  mind  Mr.  Frere  did  not  much  expect 
that  Arthur  would  ever  speak,  and  it  annoyed  him  to 
see  the  young  man  always  about  the  house.  The 
intimacy  had  grown  rapidly,  and,  as  far  as  the  head 
of  the  family  was  concerned,  almost  unawares. 

"  I  think  Arthur  comes  here  too  often,"  he  said 
tentatively. 

"  My  dear  Henry  !     How  is  that  possible  ?  " 

"  People  will  begin  to  talk." 

"  Begin  !  They  have  talked  all  the  winter.  Are 
you  blind  and  deaf?  Everyone  considers  Arthur 
and  Nell  as  good  as  engaged." 

"Well,  if  that's  what  you  like " 

"  Of  course,  I  like  it.  Coming  events  cast  their 
shadow  before." 

"  Your  events  are  all  shadow,  I'm  afraid.  How- 
ever /  don't  want  to  get  rid  of  the  girls,  but  I  should 
like  to  go  to  sleep  now." 

"  I  am  not  a  bit  sleepy.  My  ears  are  full  of  the 
Appassionata.  You  must  have  noticed,  Henry,  that 
when  Herr  Hansen  played  the  last  movement — oh  ! 
very  well.  I  won't  say  another  word  if  you'll  just  tell 
me  this  :  does  his  town  house  face  the  Alster  ?  " 

Mrs.  Frere  had  not  been  in  Hamburg  for  years,  and 
at  the  date  of  her  last  visit  she  did  not  know  Herr 
Hansen  ;  but  she  had  always  known  the  name  of  the 
firm  in  which  he  was  now  senior  partner.  Hansen, 
Bopp,  &  Rossler.  The  very  syllables  had  magic  in 
them  beclouding  to  the  judgment. 

When  young  people  fall  in  love  they  are  sometimes 
kept  awake  by  pleasure,  grief,  or  excitement ;  but 
Mrs.  Frere  lost  part  of  her  night's  rest  for  the  sake  of 
her  child.  While  Hilary  slept  like  a  top,  her  mother 
tossed  from  side  to  side  and  recalled  the  incidents  of 
the  last  twelve  hours.  Herr  Hansen  had  come  straight 
up  to  them  after  making  his  bow  to  Mrs.  Theodore. 


46  Gbe  <5ra0sbopper0. 

He  had  stayed  in  their  neighborhood  all  the  after- 
noon. He  had  spoken  unreservedly  of  Hilary's 
beauty,  and  listened  with  the  greatest  interest  to  an 
account  of  her  other  perfections.  It  is  true  he  had 
eaten  an  excellent  dinner.  Mrs.  Frere  sighed  as  she 
remembered  that  he  had  taken  a  pigeon  bone  in  his 
fingers  to  pick  it  with  complete  finish,  and  that,  as  he 
did  so,  Hilary  turned  rather  red.  But  when  a  man 
has  passed  forty  you  do  not  expect  anything  but  liver 
to  destroy  his  appetite ;  and  Hansen,  Bopp  & 
Rossler  were  above  manners,  just  as  the  son  of  a 
duke  may  be,  if  he  likes,  in  England.  In  Mrs. 
Frere's  mind,  Herr  Hansen  represented  the  great  firm, 
even  when  he  sat  at  her  table  eating  vol  au  vent  of 
pigeons. 

That  green  gown  certainly  suited  Hilary,  but  Mrs. 
Frere  would  never  have  foreseen  its  effect  on  Herr 
Hansen.  If  she  had  been  consulted,  she  would  have 
said,  "  On  no  account,  my  darling.  Wear  a  square- 
cut  black  silk,  have  a  neat  head  of  hair,  and  lace  as 
tightly  as  you  can."  But,  of  course,  men  as  much 
sought  after  as  Herr  Hansen  do  grow  capricious. 
They  shilly-shally  until  middle  age,  and  then  they 
suddenly  throw  the  handkerchief  to  someone  unlike 
the  ideal  you  feel  sure  they  have  hitherto  set  up. 
Hilary's  behavior  was  even  more  surprising.  Mrs. 
Frere  would  never  have  expected  her  child  to  make 
so  little  objection  to  Herr  Hansen's  figure  and  foreign 
ways.  She  could  not  plead  blindness  to  his  intentions, 
because,  to  prevent  mistakes,  Mrs.  Frere  had  pointed 
them  out  quite  plainly  to  both  girls.  It  is  true  that 
Hilary  had  looked  annoyed,  and  dropped  some  non- 
sensical remark  about  friendship  being  possible  with- 
out an  alloy  of  sentiment.  Young  ladies  do  say  that 
kind  of  thing  before  a  man  declares  himself.  It 
means  no  more  than  the  protestations  of  your 
enamoured  bachelor  who  vows  he  will  not  marry. 

On  the  whole,  Mrs.  Frere  had  been  deeply  gratified 
by  the  events  of  the  day,  and  it  vexed  her  to  find  next 
morning  that  Hilary  meant  to  take  herself  off  for  a 


•fcerr  fjansen's  Coats.  47 

walk  with  Dick  Lorimer.  She  said  something  about 
the  impropriety  of  it  to  her  husband,  but  he  refused 
to  interfere,  although  he  agreed  that  it  would  be 
awkward  if  Herr  Hansen  called  this  morning  in  a 
dress  coat  and  white  gloves,  and  with  a  bunch  of 
flowers  in  his  hand.  Herr  Hansen  might  not  know 
that  in  England  a  man  may  make  his  offer  of  mar- 
riage in  any  coat  he  pleases,  nor  that  it  is  the  topsy- 
turvy custom  of  the  country  to  woo  the  child  first  and 
then  the  parents.  It  would  really  be  very  embarrass- 
ing for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frere  if  they  had  to  hear  pro- 
posals they  would  joyfully  accept,  and  then  see  them- 
selves forced  to  admit  that  their  daughter  was  scam- 
pering over  the  country  with  another  young  man.  In 
such  a  contingency  what  did  Mr.  Frere  intend  to  say? 
Influenza  ?  Really,  Mr.  Frere  did  not  deserve  to  have 
wealthy  sons-in-law  if  he  would  not  make  the  smallest 
effort  to  receive  them  suitably.  It  was  no  use  telling 
Mrs.  Frere  to  use  her  own  authority.  He  might  as 
well  tell  her  to  use  her  wings. 

Meanwhile,  Hilary  sent  for  a  hansom,  and  started. 
She  had  promised  to  be  at  Victoria  by  ten  o'clock, 
and  it  was  all  she  could  do  to  get  there  in  time.  She 
rather  enjoyed  shocking  Mrs.  Grundy  as  long  as  it 
could  be  done  with  inward  comfort  to  herself;  and 
she  certainly  was  not  going  to  shy  at  a  Sunday  walk 
with  Dick  just  because  they  were  no  longer  boy 
and  girl.  How  many  Sunday  walks  had  they 
taken  together  nve  years  ago?  And  Dick  never 
talked  sentimental  nonsense.  The  juxtaposition,  even 
in  thought,  of  Dick  and  sentiment  made  Hilary 
smile. 

He  came  forward  as  her  hansom  drew  up  at  the 
station,  and  hurried  her  to  the  train.  Somehow  he 
had  secured  an  empty  carriage.  They  were  only  just 
in  time. 

"  Where  are  we  going,  then  ? "  asked  Hilary. 
That  Dick  should  plan  the  walk  was  quite  in  accord- 
ance with  the  ancient  custom. 

"  I  have  taken  single  tickets  to  Dorking." 


48  abe  <5ra06boppers. 


"  Through  the  woods  to  Coldharbor,  and  on  by 
Jacob's  Walk  and  Friday  Street  to  Abinger  Hatch  ?  " 

"  If  you  can  walk  as  well  as  ever." 

"  Do  you  call  that  a  walk  ?  I  plant  my  banner  on 
snow  and  ice  nowadays.  We  ought  to  meet  in 
Switzerland,  Dick." 

"  Do  she-undergraduates  eat  sweets?" 

"  Well,  sometimes.  Oh  !  I  wondered  what  that 
package  was.  Those  French  ones  you  used  to  bring  ? 
You  have  a  very  agreeable  memory." 

He  watched  her  take  off  her  gloves  and  untie  the 
golden  thread  that  bound  the  package.  She  looked 
up  as  she  offered  the  sweets  to  him. 

'  Have  you  altered  much  ?  "  she  asked. 

*  My  tailor  says  I  have." 

'  Nonsense  !  I  mean  in  important  ways." 

'  I've  given  up  Bass  and  taken  to  lager." 

'  Ah  !  you  are  just  the  same,"  she  said  regretfully  ; 
"never  serious." 

Dick  felt  inclined  to  retort  that  he  was  not  a  woman 
of  leisure,  with  ample  time  for  the  consideration  of 
those  vast  questions  that  seemed  to  occupy  Hilary's 
mind.  His  life  had  been  a  hard  uphill  tussle.  A 
man  whose  days  are  spent  in  eager  buying  and  selling 
is  apt  to  find  his  work  tax  enough  on  his  faculties. 
In  his  leisure  hours  he  is  glad  to  rest.  But  face  to 
face  daily  with  the  primitive  interests  and  passions  of 
human  nature,  Dick  had  learned,  at  any  rate,  how  to 
bear  himself  bravely  ;  how  to  use  the  weapons  he 
needed  ;  how  to  wring  some  measure  of  success  from 
life.  And  yet  this  child,  who  had  trodden  on  rose- 
leaves,  complained  that  he  was  not  sufficiently  seri- 
ous. She  meant  it,  too. 

"  All  right,"  said  Dick  cheerfully,  "  go  ahead. 
What  shall  we  talk  about  ?" 

"  Oh  !  we  can't  talk  like  that,"  said  Hilary,  rather 
annoyed.  "  At  least  I  can't.  It  must  come  naturally." 

"  What  must?" 

"  Subjects." 

Not  if  he  could  help  it,  Dick  assured  himself.     But 


•fcerr  f>ansen's  Coata.  49 

aloud  he  said,  "  I  wonder  whether  the  old  woman  in 
Leith  Hill  Tower  sells  ginger  beer  on  Sundays  ?  " 

Hilary  laughed  with  a  contented  sound  and  con- 
tinued to  eat  her  sweets.  Dick's  remark,  taken  as  an 
answer  to  her  own,  was  certainly  abrupt,  and  perhaps 
not  calculated  to  excite  discussion.  This  she  recog- 
nized, and  in  some  degree  deplored.  At  the  same 
time  she  felt  persuaded  that,  if  she  got  thirsty  and 
asked  for  ginger  beer,  Dick  by  hook  or  by  crook 
would  get  it ;  also  that,  if  they  met  a  mad  bull,  he 
would  cause  it  to  go  away  ;  also  that  he  knew  about 
roads  and  trains,  and  would  lead  her  comfortably 
home  again,  and  that,  however  willing  she  was  to  over- 
tire  herself  and  suffer  silently,  he  would  not  let  her  do 
anything  of  the  kind.  In  Switzerland,  last  year,  she 
had  on  one  occasion  been  so  dead  beat  that  she 
lagged  behind  the  others  for  the  last  few  miles,  and 
her  self-constituted  companion,  a  young  professor  of 
literature,  staying  in  the  same  hotel,  had  chosen  that 
opportunity  to  state  his  views  on  Ruskin  as  an  inter, 
preter  of  scenery.  He  had  talked  without  stopping 
all  the  way  home,  and  had  never  seen  that  she  could 
hardly  keep  on  her  feet,  and  that  his  arm  would  have 
been  more  acceptable  just  then  than  his  views. 
Hilary  was,  of  course,  immensely  interested  in  Rus- 
kin, but  somehow  that  afternoon  in  Switzerland  her 
thoughts  flew  to  Dick.  She  wished  he  was  there 
instead  of  the  young  professor.  He  would  have 
known  nothing  about  the  modern  date  of  our  passion 
for  mountains,  but  the  mountains  would  have  kept 
him  silent,  which  is,  after  all,  what  they  are  apt  to  do 
for  greater  folk  than  either  Dick  or  the  professor. 
Hilary,  who  had  begun  by  sitting  at  the  feet  of  her 
new  friend,  told  Nell  that  he  had  "chattered,"  and 
next  day,  as  they  descended  to  Lauterbrunnen  from 
the  Little  Scheideck,  she  refused  to  marry  him.  So 
he  went  on  to  Miirren  in  a  huff. 

This  episode,  which  in  her  uneventful  life  stood  out 
importantly,  came  uppermost  to-day.  She  remembered 
the  forlornness  with  which  she  had  stumbled  along 


5°  Gbe  (Brassboppers. 

through  heavy  snow,  and  afterward  under  drenching 
rain. 

"  Suppose  we  were  on  a  mountain  together,  Dick," 
she  said  suddenly,  "  and  we  had  tramped  through  miles 
of  snow,  and  then  it  began  to  rain,  and  I  was  so  tired 
I  could  hardly  get  on.  What  would  you  do  ?  " 

"  Is  that  a  subject?"  said  Dick,  shying  at  once. 

By  this  time  they  had  left  Dorking  well  behind 
them  and  were  in  the  shade  of  Redlands  Wood. 
They  had  hardly  spoken  since  they  left  the  train. 
Dick  had  repeated  his  question  about  the  old  woman 
in  Leith  Hill  Tower,  and  Hilary  had  not  replied.  At 
that  moment  she  was  mentally  plunging  through  snow, 
accompanied  by  the  young  professor. 

"  Answer,  Dick  !  "  she  said  impatiently. 

He  looked  at  her,  and  considered  before  he 
spoke. 

"  I  couldn't  carry  you  far,  you  know,"  he  said. 
"  Girls  are  so  tall  nowadays." 

"  O  Dick  !  do  answer  seriously.  It  is  not  a  frivo- 
lous question." 

"  It  sounds  like  one,  then.  How  can  I  tell  what  I 
should  do  ?  Give  you  some  brandy,  if  I  had  any,  I 
suppose.  Hi  !  stop,  Hilary !  Don't  tear  on  like 
that.  It's  one  o'clock,  and  this  is  where  we  are  going 
to  have  lunch.  What  have  you  brought?  " 

Dick  unloaded  his  satchel  and  Hilary  a  string  bag. 
They  never  entered  an  inn  on  these  expeditions,  even 
when  Mr.  Frere  accompanied  them,  and  when  they 
were  defying  Mrs.  Grundy  it  was  manifestly  impossi- 
ble. Mrs.  Grundy's  views  are  always  changing,  and 
are  never  consistent,  so  it  is  perhaps  hardly  worth 
while  to  quote  them ;  but  it  seems  that  while  she 
objects  to  a  long  country  walk,  she  simply  will  not 
stand  an  inn.  Dear  old  lady  !  We  could  not  do  with- 
out her,  and  she  often  shows  herself  most  sensible  and 
prudent  ;  but  her  rules  are  very  difficult  to  compre- 
hend sometimes. 

Dick  and  Hilary  did  not  in  the  least  regret  an  inn. 
The  pine  wood  was  good  enough  for  them.  It  had 


'"i  COULDN'T  CARRY  YOI  FAR,  voi'  KNOW,'  HE  SAID."—  Page 50. 


f>err  tmnsen's  Coats.  51 

rained  the  day  before,  and  now  the  hot  sun  distilled 
fragrance  from  every  branch  and  trunk  of  the  great 
trees.  There  were  shade  and  coolness  beneath  their 
branches,  and  sunlight  to  look  at  wherever  the  rays 
fell.  The  undergrowth  of  heather,  bilberry,  and 
bracken  was  still  young,  the  heather  tipped  with  deli- 
cate green,  the  bilberry  hung  with  bells  of  dainty 
coral,  the  bracken  only  just  unfurled  ;  and  from  where 
they  sat,  beneath  an  immense  oak  at  the  edge  of  the 
wood,  they  saw  the  heavenly  blue  of  wild  hyacinths 
growing  in  thousands,  and  sending  their  scent  abroad 
with  every  little  puff  of  air. 

"  I  wish  we  lived  in  the  country,"  said  Hilary,  tak- 
ing off  her  gloves  and  untying  the  neat  packages  she 
had  brought  from  home.  "  What  horrid  sandwiches 
yours  look,  Dick  !  I  am  sure  you  cut  them  yourself. 
Have  some  of  mine.  I  think  papa  ought  to  get  a 
cottage  just  for  Sundays  and  part  of  the  summer. 
Don't  you  think  it  would  be  a  good  plan  ?  You  could 
come  on  Saturdays  and  stay  with  us." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  with  hesitation. 

"  Where  are  the  objections  ?  I  can  hear  in  your 
voice  that  some  occur  to  you." 

"  Well,  the  additional  expense  for  one." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Hilary,  lifting  her  eyebrows,  "  is  that 
all  ?  Papa  always  has  the  money  for  anything  we 
want." 

Dick  unscrewed  his  flask  and  offered  Hilary  some 
claret,  but  she  refused  it.  She  did  not  like  any  wine 
but  champagne. 

"  I  disapprove  of  worrying  much  about  money," 
she  continued.  "  It  is  not  a  subject  that  ought  to  fill 
one's  thoughts  at  all." 

"  It  fills  them  pretty  full  when  you  happen  to  have 
none,"  said  Dick. 

"  But  that  never  happens.  People  like  ourselves 
have  what  is  necessary — somehow." 

"  Have  you  ever  asked  how  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Hilary,  more  intent  on  an  orange  that 
she  was  carefully  peeling  than  on  Dick's  surprising 


52  £be  Grasshoppers. 

gravity  of  tone.     "  I  don't  care  about  money.     I  never 
give  a  thought  to  it.     Why  should  one  ?  " 

"  That's  all  right  for  you,"  said  Dick.  "  Your 
father  works  for  you  now,  and  when  you're  married 
your  husband  will.  But  a  man  has  to  earn  his  living 
— unless  he  inherits  one,  of  course/' 

"  I  don't  recognize  your  distinction,"  said  Hilary  ; 
"  you  talk  as  if  every  woman  had  a  man  to  work  for 
her.  Whether  she  ought  to  have  is  a  question  of 
opinion,  but  that  many  have  not  is  a  matter  of  fact." 

"  Unfortunately  it  is,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  should  not  object  to  earn  my  own  living." 

"  How  would  you  set  about  it  ?  " 

"  Well !  it's  a  secret,  but  I  don't  mind  telling  you, 
Dick." 

She  stopped  for  a  moment,  disturbed  by  the  rustle 
of  a  rabbit  scampering  through  the  bracken  a  little 
way  off,  and  then  she  said  in  an  impressive  under- 
tone : 

"  I'm  translating  a  Greek  play  into  English  verse, 
and  I  am  going  to  write  a  pamphlet  about  the  mar- 
riage laws." 

"  It's  very  clever  of  you,"  said  Dick,  "  but  I  dare 
say  I  shall  make  more  by  a  consignment  of  tussores 
that  I  expect  from  Calcutta  to-morrow." 

"You  have  a  sordid  mind,  Dick.  I  can't  think  why 
nice  people  should  worry  about  pounds,  shillings,  and 
pence.  Papa  does,  you  know.  It  is  just  like  children 
playing  at  cards  ;  they  are  more  interested  in  the 
counters  than  in  the  game.  You  are  always  heaping 
up  your  counters,  and  forget  that  life  slips  away  hour 
by  hour." 

"  But  I  don't  see  how  you're  to  play  the  game  with- 
out the  counters,"  said  Dick. 

Hilary  waved  away  the  clouds  of  smoke  blowing 
toward  her  from  Dick's  newly  lighted  pipe,  and  pres- 
ently she  got  up  and  gathered  a  few  wild  hyacinths. 
When  the  pipe  was  finished  they  went  on. 

Meanwhile  Mrs.  Frere's  prophecies  were  half  ful- 
filled, which  is  perhaps  as  much  as  a  nineteenth-cen- 


f>ert  fwnsen's  Coats.  53 

tury  prophet  can  expect.  Herr  Hansen  did  call. 
He  came  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  excused  himself 
by  explaining  that  time  had  slipped  away  faster  than 
he  thought  at  the  Zoo.  He  had  been  interviewing 
some  of  the  monkeys.  Mrs.  Frere  assured  him  that 
in  her  house  he  would  find  a  welcome  any  day  and 
any  hour.  Of  course,  he  would  dine.  Herr  Hansen 
said  he  would,  with  pleasure,  as  it  was  only  in  the 
bosom  of  an  amiable  and  accomplished  family  that  a 
poor  foreigner  could  shake  off  the  depressing  influ- 
ences of  an  English  Sunday.  Could  Mrs.  Frere  tell 
him  why  drunkenness  was  the  only  Sabbath  recreation 
officially  encouraged  in  this  country  ?  Mrs.  Frere 
shook  her  head,  which  was  not  used  to  trouble  about 
such  matters.  At  the  present  moment  the  question 
of  a  savory  dinner  seemed  of  greater  interest,  and 
directly  an  opportunity  occurred  she  slipped  out  of 
the  room  to  confer  with  the  cook.  She  had  not  reck- 
oned on  an  important  guest  to-night,  and  her  menu, 
as  she  reflected  on  it  while  chatting  to  Herr  Hansen, 
suddenly  looked  meager.  But  her  cook  was  a  treas- 
ure, and  her  store-room  well  supplied.  If  all  defi- 
ciencies could  be  as  easily  made  good Luckily, 

Herr  Hansen  did  not  wear  a  dress  coat.  Then  he 
had  not  come  on  purpose  to  propose  to  Hilary,  and 
for  half  an  hour  Nell  might  entertain  him  ;  but  Nell 
would  have  something  else  to  do  if  Arthur  kept  his 
promise  and  arrived.  Mrs.  Frere  hurried  into  the 
"  library,"  a  ground-floor  room,  comfortably  furnished 
with  everything  proper  to  a  library  excepting  book- 
shelves and  books.  Here  she  found  Mr.  Frere  half 
asleep  on  the  sofa.  He  had  shown  a  want  of  energy 
of  late,  a  constant  inclination  to  rest  and  doze,  that 
puzzled  his  wife — when  she  thought  of  it.  It  struck 
her  now,  as  she  opened  the  door,  that  he  looked 
heavy  and  colorless,  but  the  impression  faded  from 
her  mind  at  once.  What  she  came  to  say  possessed 
her. 

"  My  dear,  Herr  Hansen  has  come.     I  told  you  he 
would.     But  he  has  on  a  frock  coat.     He  has  been  to 


54  Gbe  (Srassboppers. 

see  the  monkeys  at  the  Zoo.  Can  you  look  after  him 
now  for  an  hour  ?  " 

"  Where  are  the  girls?  " 

"  O  Henry  !  how  can  you  ask,  when  you  know 
how  much  I  was  against  it?  Don't  say  so  before 
Herr  Hansen.  He  is  not  used  to  your  free-and-easy 
English  ways." 

"  He  asked  Hilary  to  go  to  the  opera  with  him," 
growled  Mr.  Frere. 

"  He  didn't  ask  her  to  go  for  a  walk  with  Dick 
Lorimer,  though." 

"Where  is  Nell?" 

"  In  the  drawing  room,  but  Arthur  is  coming  directly 
for  tennis.  His  people  don't  allow  it  on  Sundays,  so 
the  poor  boy  is  driven  here." 

"  Will  they  both  dine  ?  and  Dick  too  ?  because  I 
want  to  know  which  one  of  the  three  I  am  to  entertain. 
I'm  willing  to  do  my  duty,  but  I  like  it  clearly 
pointed  out.  The  other  night  you  said  I  monopolized 
Hansen." 

"  An  ounce  of  tact  is  worth  a  ton  of  duty  in  such 
cases,  Henry.  Use  your  wits,  as  I  do.  By  the  way, 
I  think  I'll  stay  here  and  watch  for  Hilary  and  Dick. 
I  do  not  want  them  to  burst  into  the  drawing  room 
covered  with  dust.  You  go  and  talk  to  Herr  Hansen. 
You  know  you  like  him." 

"  Oh  !  he's  all  right.  Not  exactly  romantic  looking, 
perhaps " 

"  Romantic  looking  ?  " 

"  From  Hilary's  point  of  view,  I  mean.  You  take 
her  consent  for  granted- " 

"  Hilary  is  so  sensible.  Now,  Henry,  don't  look  at 
me  like  that  when  I  say  a  word  in  favor  of  our  own 
child.  I  am  not  calling  her  a  beauty  or  a  genius." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Frere  as  he  went  out  of  the 
room,  "  you  can  call  her  what  you  like,  but  I'll  eat  my 
hat  if  ever  you  call  her  Frau  Hansen." 

Mrs.  Frere  sat  at  the  window,  and  when  Hilary  and 
Dick  arrived  she  attracted  their  attention  by  saying  in 
a  loud  whisper : 


•fcerr  tmnsen'0  Coats.  55 

"Come  in  here  first." 

"  What  is  it,  mamma?"  said  Hilary, as  she  entered 
the  room.  "  Any  bores  about  ?  How  is  it  you  are 
not  with  them  ? " 

"  Herr  Hansen  has  come,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  Again  !  His  visits  are  not  few  and  far  between, 
are  they  ?  But  why  are  you  standing  sentry  here  ? " 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  thought  you  would  probably  look 
very  dusty  ;  and  you  do." 

"  We've  had  a  ripping  walk,"  said  Dick,  who  had 
stopped  for  a  moment  in  the  hall  to  unstrap  his  satchel 
and  mackintosh. 

"  I  am  glad  you  have  enjoyed  yourselves,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere.  She  hesitated  a  little,  and  then  said  to 
Hilary  : 

"  Herr  Hansen  does  not  know  you  have  been  out. 
Perhaps  you  had  better  dress  before  you  go  into  the 
drawing  room." 

Dick  rather  opened  his  eyes  at  this,  but  he  did  not 
say  anything  until  Hilary  had  taken  her  departure. 
Even  then  he  only  spoke  in  answer  to  Mrs.  Frere's 
next  remark. 

"  Herr  Hansen  has  such  a  high  opinion  of  Hilary," 
she  said,  "  I  do  not  wish  it  disturbed." 

"  He  seems  a  good-natured  old  fellow,"  said  Dick, 
with  that  apparent  irrelevance  and  real  point  of  which 
even  rather  simple-minded  men  are  sometimes  capable. 
Dick,  of  course,  made  his  point  with  his  second 
adjective. 

"  He  is  only  forty,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  He  looks  more,"  said  Dick,  his  eyes  fixed  with 
interest  on  the  dusty  toe  of  his  boot. 

"  In  Germany,"  continued  Mrs.  Frere,  "young  girls 
do  not  go  for  walks  with  young  men.  It  is  not  con- 
sidered proper." 

"  I  have  never  had  the  least  wish  to  live  in  Germany," 
said  Dick. 

"  That  is  why  I  did  not  tell  Herr  Hansen  that  you 
and  Hilary  had  gone  out  together." 

Dick  was  silent. 


56  $be  (Brassboppers. 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  do  it  again,"  continued  Mrs. 
Frere  plaintively.  "  I  am  sure  it  is  not  the  right  thing, 
now  that  you  are  both  grown  up.  Hilary  is  nearly 
twenty.  You  forget  that,  Dick." 

"  Oh,  no  !  I  don't,"  said  Dick,  getting  up.  "  I'll 
just  run  round  to  my  rooms  and  dress  now.  Dinner 
at  eight,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  You  need  not  dress,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  "  Herr 
Hansen  has  on  a  frock  coat." 

But  Dick  confounded  Herr  Hansen  and  his  coats, 
and  appeared  half  an  hour  later  as  spick  and  span  as 
he  could  make  himself.  He  had  taken  extra  pains 
with  his  white  tie. 

"  Well,  Dick  !  had  a  good  walk  ?  "  said  Mr.  Frere, 
when  he  had  helped  everyone  to  soup.  He  had 
forgotten  his  wife's  injunctions  two  minutes  after 
they  were  laid  on  him.  The  masculine  mind  does 
sometimes  show  itself  incapable  of  very  simple  per- 
formances. 

"  You  have  been  walking  ? "  said  Herr  Hansen. 
"  And  you  ?  "  he  went  on,  turning  to  Hilary,  "  what 
have  you  done  all  day  ?  " 

"  I  have  had  a  long  walk,"  began  Hilary,  determined 
not  to  make  a  secret  of  an  expedition  that  she  meant 
to  repeat  as  soon  as  possible. 

"  That  is  curious,"  said  Herr  Hansen.  "  Can  you 
tell  me,  then,  why  the  elephant  may  not  walk  on 
Sunday  ?  Last  time  I  went  to  the  Zoo  I  rode  on 
him.  To-day,  when  I  asked,  they  told  me,  '  On 
Sundays  he  does  not  go  out.'  Why  does  your  sis- 
ter laugh?  Is  it  not  comme  il faut  to  ride  on  the 
elephant  ?  " 

So  that  danger  passed  away,  and  Mrs.  Frere  breathed 
comfortably  again.  Hilary  explained  in  euphemism 
that  the  elephant  was  not  a  usual  mount  for  stout 
elderly  gentlemen.  But  Herr  Hansen  said  she  was 
mistaken.  There  had  been  people  of  all  ages  aloft 
when  he  had  ventured  there  one  Easter  Monday,  two 
years  ago.  He  had  gone  because  he  wanted  for  once 
to  mix  in  a  British  crowd,  and  share  its  pleasures. 


f>err  tansen's  Coats.  57 

On  being  questioned,  however,  he  admitted  that  half 
an  hour  had  given  him  as  much  of  the  pleasure  as  he 
could  bear.  He  thought  that  tradition  exaggerated 
the  Englishman's  attachment  to  soap  and  water  ;  nor 
did  he  see  any  beauty  in  the  fashionable  Volkslied 
'Hi-tiddley-hi-ti-hi-ti-hi."  The  words  were  nonsense. 
"  That's  news,"  whispered  Arthur  Preston  to  Nell, 
and  his  tone  made  her  so  much  inclined  to  laugh 
that  she  had  to  start  a  fresh  subject  in  hot  haste  ; 
and  when  it  was  set  going  she  scolded  him  in  under- 
tones for  trying  to  make  her  giggle.  Hilary,  she 
knew,  considered  Arthur  an  ill-bred  young  man.  It 
would  never  do  for  him  to  justify  that  opinion  by 
visible  rudeness  to  one  of  his  host's  guests. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

BEFORE    THE    DANCE. 

IT  is,  of  course,  extremely  difficult  to  gauge  the 
wear  and  tear  of  work  that  we  are  not  used  to  do. 
Every  man  is  apt  to  think  his  neighbor  has  an  easy 
time  of  it.  He  who  delves  for  his  bread  talks  as  if 
all  the  work  of  the  world  was  done  by  hands.  The 
man  of  business  thinks  in  his  heart  that  poets  and 
painters  play.  The  man  of  letters  envies  the  artisan 
whose  work  grows  hour  by  hour  in  response  to  the 
effort  spent  on  it.  A  planter's  life  sounds  like  an 
everlasting  holiday  on  horseback.  And  most  of  us 
have  heard  of  Mr.  Darwin's  housekeeper,  who 
thought  her  master  would  be  all  the  better  for  "  some- 
thing to  do." 

Mr.  Frere  and  Dick  Lorimer  spent  the  day  in  com- 
fortably furnished  offices,  where  they  read  and  wrote 
letters,  received  visitors,  and  discussed  questions  of 
sale  and  purchase  with  manufacturers,  customers,  and 
subordinates.  Described  thus,  the  life  does  not  sound 
a  hard  one.  It  is  easy  to  describe  anyone's  doings 
in  just  such  an  incomplete  way.  Men  constantly  do 
women  the  wrong  of  supposing  that  a  large  household 
can  run  smoothly  without  any  strain  on  the  guiding 
hand.  And  Mrs.  Frere  often  told  her  husband  that, 
if  he  would  manage  the  servants  and  tradespeople, 
she  would  gladly  sit  in  front  of  a  pedestal  desk  and 
write  half  a  dozen  letters  a  day.  This  did  not  pre- 
vent her  from  saying  an  hour  later  that  the  poor  man 
was  terribly  overworked. 

Dick  Lorimer  had  just  returned  to  his  office  one 
afternoon  when  one  of  his  clerks  ushered  in  Mr. 
Frere.  He  had  come  on  business,  he  said  ;  but  when 


JSefore  tbe  Dance.  59 

the  business  was  ended  he  still  lingered.  The  office 
was  newly  built,  and  very  spick  and  span.  Mr. 
Frere  looked  about  him,  approved  of  the  furniture, 
sat  down  in  a  leather-covered  easy-chair,  and  began 
talking  of  Dick's  concerns.  These  were  promising 
enough,  and  as  long  as  they  were  the  subject  of  con- 
versation, even  Mr.  Frere  looked  almost  cheerful. 
He  took  a  generous  pleasure  in  the  young  man's 
progress.  He  was  eager  to  help  where  he  could.  He 
placed  his  own  great  experience  and  his  excellent 
brains  at  Dick's  service,  for  there  was  no  question  of 
rivalry  between  the  firms.  He  wanted  Dick  to  get 
on,  to  do  well,  to  succeed  in  his  career.  The  two 
men  discussed  new  undertakings,  made  plans,  were 
fruitful  in  expedients.  It  seemed  a  pity  they  were 
not  at  work  together.  Dick  had  more  audacity  than 
his  friend,  and  that  became  his  years.  He  did  not 
hang  back  from  a  risk.  Mr.  Frere  liked  to  tread 
carefully,  to  make  a  venture  small  in  its  beginnings. 
He  warned  Dick  not  to  go  ahead  too  fast.  Solomon 
himself  could  hardly  have  surpassed  him  as  an 
adviser.  He  did  not  say  anything  about  his  own 
affairs,  but  presently  he  mentioned  that  he  must  go 
home  early.  It  was  the  night  of  the  dance. 

"  Have  you  had  lunch  ? "  asked  Dick,  who  noticed 
that  Mr.  Frere  looked  ill. 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Frere  replied,  with  hesitation.  It  was 
very  slight,  but  the  young  man  heard  it. 

"  Where  do  you  usually  go?  " 

"  I  have  tried  an  A.  B.  C.  shop  lately." 

"  My  stars  !  "  said  the  young  man.  "  What  can 
you  get  there  ?  " 

"  I  have  cocoa  and  bread  and  butter.  I  dine  when 
I  get  home,  you  know." 

"  Doctor's  orders  ? " 

"  No." 

Dick,  who  was  walking  up  and  down  the  office, 
wheeled  round  and  faced  Mr.  Frere. 

"  I  am  coming  to  a  dance  at  your  house  to-night," 
he  said, 


60  abe  <5ras0boppet6. 


Mr.  Frere  bit  his  lips  nervously,  and  his  anxious 
face  clouded  more  deeply  than  before. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  he  muttered.  "  They  sent  the 
invitations  without  consulting  me.  They  don't  under- 
stand, Dick.  All  they  see  is  that  Theodore  has 
plenty  of  money  and  that  I  am  his  partner.  They 
think  I  worry  about  trifles." 

"  You  do  make  a  good  income,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Last  year  I  made  less  than  I  spent.  This  year 
business  is  bad.  I  tell  you  I'm  ashamed  to  face 
Theodore.  It  can't  go  on,  you  know.  After  Christ- 
mas he  can  turn  me  out,  if  he  likes.  What  is  to  be- 
come of  them  then  ?  Who  would  take  me  on  ?  Or 
suppose  I  die  ?  " 

"  Do  you  talk  to  Mrs.  Frere  ?  " 

"  She  won't  listen.  She  can't  bear  to  think  of  such 
things,  she  says.  She  trusts  to  my  going  on  with 
Theodore,  and  to  the  girls  getting  married." 

"  Well,  that's  a  point  of  view,"  said  Dick  cheerfully. 
"  It's  no  use  meeting  misfortune  halfway." 

"  If  you  don't,  it  probably  garrotes  you  before  you 
have  time  to  cry  out,"  said  Mr.  Frere. 

"  I  suppose  the  girls  are  very  likely  to  marry  ?  " 

Dick  asked  this  question  in  an  indifferent  tone,  as 
if  it  was  quite  remote  from  his  personal  interests,  and 
Mr.  Frere  did  not  notice  that  he  waited  rather  anx- 
iously for  the  answer.  He  ceased  his  promenade  up 
and  down  the  room  and  stood  quite  still,  his  face 
turned  away  from  his  friend. 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Frere  wearily.  "  Their 
mother  thinks  so,  of  course.  But  nowadays  young 
men  want  to  marry  money." 

"  Not  all  !  "  said  Dick. 

Mr.  Frere  looked  reflective,  but  he  made  no  further 
remark  just  then,  and  presently  he  got  up  to  go. 
Dick  accompanied  him  to  the  door,  but  instead  of 
opening  it,  he  leaned  against  it,  and  faced  Mr.  Frere, 
with  a  smile  that  was  perhaps  slightly  embarrassed, 
and  yet  very  pleasant  to  see. 

"  Whom  is  Hilary  going  to  marry  ?  "  he  asked. 


Before  tbe  Dance.  61 

"  No  one  ;  so  she  says." 

"  I  wish  she  would  marry  me." 

"  My  dear  boy,"  stammered  Mr.  Frere,  "  do  you 
wish  it  ? " 

"  Rather !  Ever  since  she  was  so  high."  Dick's 
hand  went  down  very  near  the  floor. 

"  But  can  you  afford  to  marry  ? " 

"  Not  just  yet,  perhaps  ;  but  if  things  go  well,  in  a 
year — or  even  next  spring,  if  Hilary  would  be  content 
with  a  rabbit-hutch  at  first." 

Mr.  Frere  looked  quite  pale.  He  sank  on  the 
nearest  seat,  and  when  he  spoke  his  voice  betrayed 
his  agitation. 

"  To  have  you  really  one  of  us — to  think  that  you 
were  my  son — I  could  die  in  peace." 

"  But  you're  not  going  to  die,"  said  Dick  cheerfully. 
"  We're  all  going  to  live  and  flourish." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  elder  man  turned  ashen  gray 
and  tremulous. 

"  I  can't  think  what  has  come  to  me,"  he  said,  in  a 
voice  as  full  of  horror  as  his  face.  "  I  often  feel  like 
this  now.  I  have  lost  all  courage.  I  can't  sleep, 
and  I  can't  fix  my  mind  on  anything  but  the  one 
idea,  what  will  become  of  them  when  I  die  ?  There 
would  be  a  thousand  pounds — a  year's  living — and 

then For  God's  sake  make  haste,  Dick !  I 

am  always  doing  the  sum  in  my  head,  what  is  the 
least  they  could  live  on  ?  What  must  they  have  for 
fire,  and  food,  and  shelter,  and  how  am  I  to  get  it 
together?" 

"  Have  you  never  insured  your  life  ?" 

"  For  a  thousand  pounds,  two  years  ago." 

Dick  looked  grave  and  distressed,  and  before  he 
could  say  anything  Mr.  Frere  spoke  again. 

"  I  tried  to  increase  it  some  time  back,"  he  said. 
"  They  refused  me." 

Dick  did  not  lift  his  eyes.  It  was  as  if  he  had  seen 
his  old  friend's  death-warrant.  But  after  a  silence  of 
some  moments  he  pulled  himself  together  and  spoke 
more  cheerfully  than  he  really  felt, 


62  £be  <5rassbopper0. 


"You've  worried  yourself  ill,"  he  said.  "You  must 
take  things  easy  for  a  bit." 

"  I  can't.  I  do  all  the  traveling,  you  know.  I'm 
off  to  Genoa  to-morrow." 

"  Let  Theodore  go  instead." 

"How  can  I  refuse  ?  I'm  tied  hand  and  foot.  He 
has  the  money,  and  at  the  end  of  the  year  our  partner- 
ship ceases  unless  he  consents  to  renew  it.  If  I  strike 
work  he'll  tell  me  to  go  —  he'd  be  a  fool  if  he  didn't." 

"  I'm  afraid  he's  not  a  fool  —  not  that  kind,  at 
least,"  said  Dick. 

Some  interruption  from  outside  reminded  Mr.  Frere 
that  he  was  talking  to  a  busy  man.  He  got  up. 

"Wish  me  good  luck,"  said  Dick,  as  he  shook 
hands.  "I  shall  dance  with  Hilary  to-night." 

"  My  dear  boy,  I  don't  know  that  I  ought,"  said 
Mr.  Frere.  "  We  are  a  falling  house." 

"  I'm  not  afraid  of  that,"  said  Dick.  "  I  don't 
want  to  be  in  too  great  a  hurry,  though.  There  is 
such  a  thing  as  speaking  at  the  wrong  moment,  I  sup- 
pose, and  Hilary  is  full  of  ideas  just  now." 

"  Her  mother  complains  a  good  deal  of  that." 

"  Mrs.  Frere  has  ideas  too." 

"  Any  amount,"  admitted  her  husband.  In  his 
heart  he  added  that  they  were  foolish,  but  he  was  too 
loyal  to  say  so  aloud. 

"  You  know  what  her  great  idea  is  at  the  present 
moment?" 

"  I  dare  say  she  has  mentioned  it,"  said  Mr.  Frere, 
in  an  unfinished  way. 

"  Herr  Hansen." 

"  Oh,  yes  !  of  course.  She  often  speaks  of  him  ; 
but  she  will  forget  him  directly  he  has  gone  back  to 
Hamburg." 

Dick  had  plenty  to  do  all  the  afternoon,  but  his  busi- 
ness transactions  did  not  entirely  fill  his  thoughts. 
He  understood  that  it  was  touch  and  go  with  his  old 
friends,  and  he  wondered  what  he  had  better  do  to 
help  them.  He  could  soon  afford  to  marry  and  main- 
tain a  modest  household  —  one  of  those  little  homes 


JBefore  tbe  Dance.  63 

that  to  many  minds  seem  pleasant  and  comfortable, 
though  the  income  spent  in  them  counts  itself  by 
hundreds.  The  picture  of  such  a  home  painted  itself 
in  pleasing  flashes  on  his  imagination.  He  felt 
impatient  to  make  it  ready.  But  would  Hilary  con- 
sent to  share  it  ?  He  did  not  want  her  to  come  to 
him  solely  for  her  father's  sake  ;  and  yet  he  believed 
that,  if  the  sisters  married  well,  Mr.  Frere  would 
recover  both  his  health  and  his  courage.  His  ex- 
penditure might  so  easily  be  reduced  when  he  and 
his  wife  were  living  by  themselves,  for  Mrs.  Frere's 
extravagance  mainly  spent  itself  on  her  children. 
Then  Mr.  Theodore  would  perhaps  consent  to  renew 
the  partnership,  and  so  all  would  yet  go  well.  It 
really  seemed  as  if  Mrs.  Frere's  point  of  view  was  not 
quite  unreasonable.  The  family  welfare  hung  on  the 
marriages  made  by  the  girls  ;  but  what  a  pity  that  it 
should  be  so  !  How  foolish  to  live  in  such  a  manner 
that  their  prosperity  hung  on  the  delicate  thread  of 
a  young  man's  choice,  of  a  maiden's  fancy  !  Suppose 
Arthur  Preston  was  playing  fast  and  loose  ?  Suppose 
Hilary  said  Nay  ?  She  railed  against  men  and  mar- 
riage. It  is  true  that  such  railings  are  in  the  air  to- 
day, and  that  yet  most  misses  blossom  into  madams. 
The  refusal  by  the  insurance  office  was  a  bad  piece 
of  news.  Mr.  Frere  had  certainly  looked  broken 
down  of  late.  Many  a  definite  disease  is  less  alarm- 
ing than  the  gradual  deterioration  that  even  medical 
men  can  sometimes  only  describe  as  failure.  A  year's 
rest  might  set  him  right,  or  at  any  rate  patch  him  up. 
How  could  he  get  it  ?  Dick  had  not  answered  the 
question  when  he  left  the  City  ;  and  while  he  dined 
and  dressed  for  the  dance  his  old  friend's  affairs  still 
worried  him. 

Mrs.  Frere  had  promised  to  give  a  small  and  simple 
entertainment  :  she  would  not  ask  any  elderly  people, 
or  provide  an  elaborate  supper  ;  she  would  buy  no 
flowers,  and  hardly  any  ice,  and  the  young  folks 
might  drink  cheap  champagne.  Mr.  Frere  sighed, 
and  avoided  the  discussion  of  details  ;  but  he  knew 


<Bra00bopper0. 

very  well  that  he  had  no  cheap  champagne.  It  was 
not,  however,  until  a  few  hours  before  his  guests 
arrived  that  Mr.  Frere  discovered  what  his  wife's 
promises  of  economy  were  worth.  He  went  home 
rather  earlier  than  usual  in  order  to  get  out  wine  and 
superintend  the  brewing  of  the  claret  cup,  and  even 
before  he  entered  the  house  he  saw  signs  of  expendi- 
ture that  he  had  never  authorized.  There  was  an 
awning  up  from  the  front  door  to  the  gate,  and  red 
cloth  put  down  beneath  it.  A  local  florist  seemed  to 
have  brought  most  of  his  stock  in  a  large  cart,  and 
two  men  were  carrying  in  flowering  plants,  palms,  and 
ferns  as  quickly  as  they  could  ;  while  inside  the  house 
Mrs.  Frere  and  both  the  girls  were  hard  at  work 
arranging  them.  They  hardly  heard  their  father's 
suggestion  that  half  the  plants  should  be  sent  back. 

"  You  can't  have  too  many  flowers,  papa,"  said  Nell 
cheerfully.  She  carried  a  great  pot  of  lilies  in  her 
hand,  and  as  she  put  up  her  face  to  kiss  her  father, 
someone  brushed  against  the  head  of  the  plant  and 
knocked  the  blooms  clean  off. 

"Five  shillings  gone  there,"  said  Nell,  with  regret. 
"  Give  me  another  pot,  please." 

Mr.  Frere  sighed  and  went  into  the  dining  room. 
At  his  wife's  request  he  had  carried  home  a  heavy  bag 
of  fruit,  which  he  set  down  near  the  sideboard.  The 
table  was  laid  for  supper.  Hilary  found  him  gazing 
at  it  as  if  it  was  furnished  for  a  funeral  instead  of  for 
a  feast. 

"  Hot-house  flowers,"  he  muttered,  "  and  peaches 
by  the  dozen.  I  did  not  buy  any,  they  were  so  dear. 
I  have  brought  two  pines.  I  wish  I  had  been  content 
with  gooseberries.  I  might  have  known  that  if  I  spent 
a  guinea  your  mother  would  spend  two.  And  now  I 
must  get  out  champagne  for  eighty  people.  Oh  ! " 
he  cried,  in  one  of  those  sudden  gusts  of  anger  that  of 
late  had  sometimes  shaken  him,  "  go  on  as  you  like — 
spend  more  than  I  make,  and  all  I  can  borrow — sell 
house  and  home,  and  then  beg  for  bread  in  the 
streets," 


JSefocc  tbe  Dance.  65 

Hilary  glanced  at  the  bag  of  fruit  she  had  just 
picked  up  from  the  floor.  Nothing  in  the  room,  her 
father's  purchases  least  of  all,  suggested  straitened 
means.  His  words  hardly  carried  meaning  ;  they 
inspired  no  dread.  Ever  since  she  could  remember 
he  had  talked  in  the  same  way,  and  nothing  had  ever 
come  of  it.  He  had  constantly  complained  of  his 
expenses,  looked  forward  to  death  and  misfortune, 
and  in  his  gloomy  moods  cast  a  shadow  on  the  very 
pleasures  he  supplied  with  a  liberal  hand.  Hilary 
supposed  this  habit  of  his  must  be  a  common  one 
among  men,  and  her  acquaintance  with  it  helped  to 
strengthen  her  objection  to  marry.  It  would  be  very 
unpleasant  to  depend  for  money  on  the  good  or  bad 
humors  of  some  commonplace  young  man — a  creature 
who  would  probably  be  her  inferior  mentally,  and 
without  any  doubt  morally.  For  her  father  she  felt 
very  sorry,  because  she  saw  that  he  was  really  vexed 
and  anxious.  She  knew  how  generous  he  was,  how 
unexacting,  how  ready  to  spend  every  penny  he  made 
on  his  wife  and  children.  At  the  same  time  she  could 
not  refrain  from  the  reflection  that  men  often  show 
themselves  incapable  of  exercising  the  authority  placed 
by  custom  in  their  hands.  The  reflection,  as  it  flashed 
through  her  mind,  consoled  her.  Perhaps  for  want  of 
use  they  would  gradually  lose  it,  as  other  bad  habits 
can  be  lost. 

"  Why  did  you  consent  to  give  the  dance  ? "  she 
said. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Frere  irritably,  "  you  all  do  as  you 
like." 

That  was  very  true,  and  Hilary  knew  it.  It  was  not 
in  her  own  home  that  her  belief  in  the  wrongs  of 
women  and  the  tyranny  of  men  had  been  awakened. 
Indeed  her  only  real  and  intimate  experience  of 
domestic  life  might  have  suggested  to  her  that  the 
theoretical  subjection  of  women  is  not  always  borne 
out  in  practice  ;  but  at  this  period  Hilary's  judgments 
were  gloriously  independent  of  mere  fact.  She  took 
her  gods  at  second-hand,  and  stared  at  them  until  her 


66  abe  (Brassboppers, 


eyes  were  dazzled  ;  then  you  might  stand  in  her  path 
and  she  would  not  see. 

"  It  is  not  for  myself  I  care,"  continued  Mr.  Frere  ; 
"  I  shall  be  dead.  But  what  is  to  become  of  you?" 

His  wife  came  in  just  then  and  overheard  his  mel- 
ancholy speech.  She  asked  Hilary  to  go  and  help 
Nell  with  the  flowers,  and  directly  the  girl  had  left  the 
room  Mrs.  Frere  said  to  her  husband  :  "  How  can  you 
make  the  child  miserable  to-night,  when  it  is  so  im- 
portant that  she  should  look  her  best  ?  I  tell  you  they 
will  both  be  married  by  Christmas." 

"  So  you  always  say  ;  but  suppose  you  are  wrong, 
and  that  I  die  first  ?  What  then  ?  " 

"  Henry,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  "  I  have  had  a  tiring 
day,  and  I  have  a  long  evening  before  me,  and  Mrs. 
Theodore  is  coming.  Don't  upset  me.  You  know 
how  wicked  I  think  such  speeches  are.  I  would  rather 
starve  with  my  children  than  grudge  them  everything 
while  they  are  young.  God  takes  care  of  the  spar- 
rows, and  he  will  take  care  of  us.  He  won't  let  you 
die  while  we  want  you  so  badly  —  besides,  there  is 
always  the  workhouse.  Now,  get  out  plenty  of  cham- 
pagne, and  drink  a  glass  yourself.  I  am  sure  that  is 
all  you  want." 

Mr.  Frere  did  not  look  as  if  he  thought  his  wife's 
arguments  convincing,  but  he  moved  away  toward  the 
cellar,  and  it  was  curious  to  hear  her  call  after  him  : 
"  Don't  be  extravagant,  Henry.  The  second-best 
champagne  will  do,  and  we  need  not  have  hock  as 
well,"  and  to  hear  him  reply  :  "  I  can't  give  Theodore 
and  Hansen  bad  wine,  my  dear.  Theodore  drinks 
nothing  but  champagne,  and  Hansen  likes  my  Stein- 
berger  Cabinet." 

"  Arthur  says  papa  is  so  different  from  most  oldish 
men,"  said  Nell,  overhearing  this.  "  They  generally 
think  any  rubbish  good  enough  for  young  people." 

"  Young  men  soon  find  that  out,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Frere  sententiously. 

"  Yes,"  said  Hilary,  "that  is  the  kind  of  thing  they 
take  a  real  interest  in." 


JBefore  tbc  2>ance.  67 

"  Arthur  does  not  care  about  wine/8  said  Nell 
quickly. 

"  He  will  when  he  is  old  enough.  I  dare  say  he 
prefers  ginger  beer  now." 

"  You  talk  as  if  he  was  a  boy,  Hilary." 

"  So  he  is — a  mere  boy." 

"  Well,  if  it  comes  to  that — I  am  a  mere  girl,"  said 
Nell  dreamily.  Mrs.  Frere  had  left  the  room  again. 
The  sisters  were  still  busy  with  the  flowers:  Hilary 
on  her  knees  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  and  Nell  just 
behind,  a  pot  of  yellow  daisies  in  her  hand. 

"  Dear  me,  Nell  !  "  said  Hilary,  half  turning  round, 
"  are  you  engaged  to  him  ? " 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Nell,  with  a  deep  blush. 

"  But  you  may  be  any  day.     How  dreadful  !  " 

"  Dreadful !     Delightful,  you  mean." 

"  A  boy  and  girl  like  you  !  You  would  hate  each 
other  in  six  months." 

"  Father  and  mother  don't  hate  each  other." 

"  No,"  said  Hilary,  with  reflective  eyes  ;  "  but  per- 
haps they  are  an  exception  to  the  rule." 

"  Suppose  anyone  asks  you  to  marry  him  ?  " 

"  No  one  would,"  said  Hilary,  drawing  herself  up 
behind  the  daisies  that  she  had  just  taken  from  Nell's 
hands.  "  Men  do  not  propose  without  some  encour- 
agement, and  I  give  none." 

"  I  should  have  thought  they  might,  if  they  were 
very  keen,  you  know." 

"  In  these  days,"  said  Hilary,  "  young  men  are  never 
very  keen,  unless  there  is  money  in  it." 

"  Arthur  does  not  care  for  money." 

"  Has  he  told  you  so  ?  " 

"  No,  but  he  knows  I  have  none." 

Hilary,  who  had  filled  the  fireplace  to  her  satisfac- 
tion, got  up  now  and  stared  into  the  glass  over  the 
mantelpiece.  She  saw  her  sister's  face  there  as  well 
as  her  own.  The  younger  girl's  expression  was 
dreamy,  smiling,  and  serene. 

"  Some  men  are  flirts,"  said  Hilary. 

Directly  the  words  had  escaped  her  lips  she  would 


68  cbc  Grasshoppers. 


gladly  have  recalled  them.  Their  effect  on  her  sister 
was  cruel.  Nell  turned  quite  pale,  and  with  a  gesture 
of  impatience  and  indignation  moved  away. 

"  Dear  Nell,"  cried  her  sister,  with  compunction, 
"I  hope  Arthur  is  not  one,  since  you  care  so  much." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  he  is  ?"  asked  Nell  steadily. 

Much  against  her  will,  Hilary  hesitated  before  she 
spoke,  and  when  she  did  speak  stammered. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said.  "  Sophia  and  he  —  mother 
thinks  —  why  doesn't  he  either  keep  away  or  speak  ? 
If  he  does  not  —  men  who  dangle  after  girls  are  most 
dishonorable." 

"  Well,"  said  Nell,  "  what  is  a  man  to  do  ?  How 
can  he  get  to  know  a  girl  if  he  doesn't  dangle,  as  you 
call  it.  Would  you  have  him  propose  to  her  at  the 
end  of  an  hour's  acquaintance  ?  " 

"  My  dears,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  suddenly  appearing 
in  a  great  bustle,  "  three  bouquets  have  come  from 
Herr  Hansen  —  such  beauties!  —  but  they  are  all  three 
the  same  size." 

"  Did  you  want  yours  to  be  bigger  than  ours  ?  "  said 
Nell,  hanging  behind  a  little,  while  Hilary  hurried 
into  the  hall  to  look  at  these  unexpected  tributes  from 
their  foreign  friend. 

"  No,  no,  dear  ;  of  course  not,"  whispered  Mrs.  Frere. 
"  But  I  did  think  the  one  he  sent  Hilary  might  have 
been  larger  than  ours,  you  know  —  just  to  show  what 
he  meant.  Flowers  are  rather  serious,  and  of  course 
he  will  have  on  evening  clothes  to-night.  I  really 
don't  see  what  is  to  prevent  him  -  " 


THE   FKERES    WERE    VERY    POPULAR    PEOPLE." — Page  (X). 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A    FOOLISH     VIRGIN. 

HILARY  had  taken  an  unexpected  fancy  to  Herr 
Hansen.  She  forgave  him  for  eating  with  his  knife 
because,  she  said,  he  played  the  '  Feuerzauber '  as  if  he 
was  a  whole  orchestra,  and  Beethoven's  Opus  109 
almost  as  well  as  Hans  von  Billow.  She  knew  which 
of  the  three  nosegays  he  meant  for  her.  He  had 
asked  her  which  color  her  gown  would  be,  and  she 
had  told  him  yellow.  Two  of  the  nosegays  were  of 
roses,  and  one  of  yellow  Iceland  poppies,  so  she  took 
that  one  for  herself.  He  saw  it  in  her  hands  directly 
he  entered  the  room,  although  she  was  dancing,  and 
some  way  from  the  door.  He  did  not  dance,  but  he 
liked  to  watch  Hilary.  She  looked  charming  in  her 
transparent  lemon-colored  draperies.  She  wore  no 
ornaments  on  her  neck  and  arms,  and  no  fringe  on 
her  forehead  ;  she  knew  that  bangs  and  bangles  did 
not  become  her.  Her  hair  grew  naturally  as  it  best 
suited  her  face,  and  luckily  the  fashion  of  the  day 
permitted  her  to  leave  bracelets  and  necklaces  up- 
stairs. When  she  caught  sight  of  Herr  Hansen  she 
nodded  and  smiled  at  him,  and  he  understood  that 
she  was  saying,  "Thank  you." 

The  Freres  were  very  popular  people.  Everyone 
liked  going  to  their  house,  whether  to  dance  or  to 
dine.  They  did  not  gather  great  crowds  together,  nor 
did  they  trot  after  little  lions  ;  they  might  have  done 
both,  but,  of  course,  they  were  not  very  worldly  wise. 
They  asked  the  friends  they  really  liked,  and  Mrs. 
Frere  was  the  only  person  in  the  house  whose  tastes 
were  governed  by  sordid  ambition.  She  was  a  shock- 
ingly worldly  woman,  Mrs.  Theodore  said,  and  she 

69 


7°  tfbe  (Srassboppers. 

certainly  did  wish  Hilary  and  Nell  to  marry  well. 
However,  even  as  a  Mammon  worshiper,  her  kindliness 
did  not  depart  from  her.  She  preferred  the  moneyed 
men,  but  she  was  hospitable  to  the  poor  ones,  per- 
haps as  a  set-off  to  her  inward  hopes  that  they  would 
not  aspire  to  her  daughters.  Since  Herr  Hansen  had 
come  forward  so  much  she  reckoned  Dick  as  poor. 

It  is  curious  how  some  houses  are  overrun  by  young 
men,  while  others  seem  under  a  ban  that  drives 
them  away.  Hilary  and  Nell  were  not  more  beautiful 
than  many  other  girls,  nor  were  their  abilities  at  all 
remarkable.  Gold  had  they  none  ;  yet  every  season 
seemed  to  bring  them  lovers.  Like  other  gifts  of 
fortune,  suitors  are  certainly  distributed  in  an  unfair, 
mysterious  way.  Some  women  have  a  choice  among 
numbers,  while  others,  apparently  as  fair  to  see,  are 
wooed  by  never  a  one.  No  man  living  can  tell  you 
the  reason  why.  They  will  give  you  vague  generalities 
about  grace  and  charm  ;  if  they  know  German,  they 
will  probably  mention  the  ewig-weibliche  ;  if  they  like 
slang,  they  will  answer  you  in  the  current  phrases. 
You  go  home  still  wondering  why  Chloe  has  had 
twenty  offers,  and  her  cousin  Doris  none. 

It  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  Mrs.  Frere  to  perceive 
that  none  of  the  pretty  girls  who  came  to  her  dance 
eclipsed  her  own  two  darlings.  Mrs.  Theodore,  it  is 
true,  wore  a  conquering  air,  but  then  she,  being  mar- 
ried, did  not  count.  Besides,  her  victory  might  have 
been  won  without  her  personal  assistance.  If  she  had 
sent  her  clothes  and  jewels  on  a  wax  figure  she  would 
have  created  the  same  sensation.  She  always  entered 
a  room  with  a  little  smile,  that  was  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Yes,  I  know  I  am  too  well  dressed,  too  gorgeous, 
too  expensive  for  my  company.  It  isn't  my  fault, 
though.  It  is  yours  for  being  poor  and  shabby.  I 
really  haven't  got  anything  cheaper."  And  in  a  sense 
her  smile  expressed  the  truth.  Her  garments  were 
irreproachable  in  color,  cut,  and  texture,  but  always 
rather  over-fine.  To-night  she  wore  a  white  brocade, 
stiff  with  silver  embroidery.  It  was  cut  perilously 


B  foollsb  Wrgtn.  71 

low,  but  her  neck  and  arms  were  almost  covered  by 
diamonds.  Sophia  looked  as  plain  as  usual,  in  pale 
pink. 

"Shall  I  find  you  a  partner,  Mrs.  Theodore?"  said 
Mrs.  Frere.  "  Do  you  mean  to  dance?" 

"  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  much  room,"  she  replied, 
and  her  objection  was  not  unreasonable.  From  where 
she  stood  at  the  door  the  crowd  looked  uncomfortably 
dense  already. 

"  Of  course,  with  your  train  you  almost  need  an 
empty  space,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

"Or  a  clever  partner.  How  badly  young  men 
dance  nowadays  !  " 

"  Did  they  dance  better  when  you  were  a  girl  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  any  of  these  young  men  when  I 
was  a  girl,"  said  Mrs.  Theodore.  "I  don't  suppose  I 
ever  shook  hands  with  a  business  man  until  I  met  my 
husband." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mrs.  Frere,  and  without  prolonging 
her  reply  she  drifted  further  into  the  room  among 
the  dancers.  The  waltz  they  were  watching  had  come 
to  an  end,  and  the  hostess  wished  to  provide  partners 
for  two  or  three  girls  who  were  usually  wall-flowers, 
in  particular  for  Sophia  Theodore.  It  was  not  an 
easy  task,  and  she  looked  about  for  a  daughter  to 
assist  her,  but  they  had  both  disappeared. 

"  Where  can  they  be  ?  "  she  asked  of  Dick. 

"  Nell  is  just  coming  back  from  the  refreshment 
room  now.  There  she  is.  I  saw  Hilary  on  Herr 
Hansen's  arm  a  moment  ago.  Shall  I  find  her  for 
you,  Mrs.  Frere? " 

"  No,  thank  you,  Nell  will  do ;  and  what  dances 
have  you  left,  Dick  ?  I  want  partners  for  Sophia 
Theodore." 

"  I  haven't  one,  I'm  afraid.  How  about  Hansen  ? 
He  came  late." 

"  Herr  Hansen  does  not  dance." 

"Well,  he's  wise,  with  his  figure,"  said  Dick. 

The  musicians  tuned  up  for  the  Barn  Dance,  and 
Dick  had  to  claim  his  partner.  He  looked  out  anx- 


7  2  ttbe  (Brassboppers. 

iously  for  Hilary,  but  she  did  not  appear.  Herr  Han- 
sen,  too,  was  absent.  The  stupid  dance  seemed  to 
go  on  forever,  and,  meanwhile,  the  poppy-giver  took 
his  innings.  Dick  wished  he  had  sent  Hilary  some 
flowers.  Whose  would  she  have  carried  ?  his,  or 
those  offered  by  that  stout,  middle-aged  German  ? 
Hilary's  name  stood  on  his  card  for  the  supper  dance 
and  for  two  later  ones.  They  were  his  own  choice. 
The  early  hours  of  the  evening  are  not  those  in  which 
a  man  finds  it  easy  to  have  his  say.  Wine,  dance,  and 
song  set  the  pulses  astir,  fire  the  blood,  give  eloquence 
and  courage.  These  good  things  Dick  felt  that  he 
would  need.  He  was  by  no  means  sure  of  Hilary. 
He  was  not  even  sure  that  she  would  dismiss  the 
poppy-giver. 

Meanwhile,  Herr  Hansen  had  led  his  lady  to  the 
veranda  outside  the  drawing-room,  and  there  they 
sat  together,  undisturbed  and  unseen.  The  moon 
shone  over  the  great  elms  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden  ; 
the  dance  music  came  through  the  open  windows; so 
did  a  confused  buzz  of  voices  and  of  prancing  foot- 
steps. 

"  It  is  a  pity  that  you  should  miss  this  dance,"  said 
Herr  Hansen.  "  To  me  you  can  talk  any  day,  but 
all  young  girls  love  to  dance." 

"  I  like  sitting  out  here,"  said  Hilary.  "  It  is  not 
like  London,  is  it  ?  to  see  nothing  but  the  moon  and 
those  great  trees." 

"  Ah  !  you  should  see  Hamburg,"  said  Herr  Han- 
sen. "  That  is  a  town." 

Hilary  smiled  vaguely,  and  held  up  her  nosegay  to 
look  at  it.  The  flowers  nodded  at  her,  and  the  long 
trails  quivered  in  the  moonlight. 

"They  do  not  understand  bouquets  here,"  said 
Herr  Hansen.  "  When  I  saw  how  carelessly  they 
had  made  yours  I  felt  very  angry.  In  Hamburg  they 
are  as  even  as  if  they  were  molded  out  of  vegetables 
or  wax,  in  rings  of  different  colors  and  quite  flat  ;  or 
they  make  a  harp  of  flowers,  or  a  ship.  Last  year 
my  friend  Frau  Werner  sent  me,  on  my  birthday,  a 


»  roolieb  Wr0fn.  73 

little  piano  made  of  Parmese  violets.  Imagine 
that  !  " 

"  Was  it  pretty  ?  "  said  Hilary. 

"  It  was  most  artistic,"  said  Herr  Hansen. 

Hilary  shut  her  eyes  and  listened  to  the  swing  of 
the  dance  music.  It  was  very  pleasant  out  here  with 
her  comfortable  middle-aged  friend. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Miss  Hilary  ?  "  he  said.  He 
never  called  her  Miss  Frere,  and  she  supposed,  quite 
rightly,  that  he  was  not  acquainted  with  the  English 
custom. 

"  I  am  not  quite  twenty,"  she  said. 

"  It  is  very  young.     I  am  forty-five." 

"  Really  !  "  She  nearly  betrayed  her  surprise  that 
he  was  not  older,  but  she  remembered  just  in  time 
that  he  might  not  like  it. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  sighing.     "  I  have  never  married." 

"  Well,"  said  Hilary,  "  you  haven't  missed  much, 
have  you  ? " 

"  That  is  a  strange  thing  for  a  young  girl  to  say. 
It  is  not  what  I  expected." 

"  What  ought  I  to  have  said  ?  " 

"  Well,  perhaps,  that  it  is  not  too  late." 

"  I  should  not  think  it  is,"  said  Hilary  consider- 
ately. "You  might  be  more  comfortable.  You  say 
your  housekeeper  has  neglected  you  lately." 

"  In  Germany  we  think  Englishwomen  are  very 
bad  housekeepers.  They  are  not  at  all  domestic,  we 
believe." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  said  Hilary  cheerfully. 
"  I'm  sure  I'm  not." 

"  Ah  !  do  not  say  so,  Miss  Hilary.  If  you  married, 
it  would  come." 

"  Would  it  ?  "  said  Hilary,  in  the  voice  of  one  listen- 
ing to  an  evil  prophet.  "  I  am  afraid  you  think  noth- 
ing good  can  come  out  of  England,"  she  added  gayly. 

"  I  cannot  say  so,"  answered  Herr  Hansen  impar- 
tially. "  Your  pickles  are  excellent." 

"  Well,  that's  something,  you  know."  said  Hilary, 
getting  up  ;  but  Herr  Hansen  detained  her, 


74  Cbe  <5ras0bopper0. 

"  Please  do  not  go  yet,"  he  said.  "  I  have  a  ques- 
tion to  ask  you." 

"  About  Bayreuth  ?  "  inquired  Hilary,  sitting  down 
again. 

"  No  !  no  !  About  myself.  You  do  not  really 
think  J  am  too  old  to  marry  ? " 

For  the  first  time  the  girl's  heart  sank  with  an 
uncomfortable  presentiment  of  what  was  coming. 
She  half  rose,  and  then  after  all  sat  still.  She  would 
not  be  fatuous  enough  to  flee  from  a  difficulty  that 
might  not  be  near.  Herr  Hansen's  voice  and  his 
hesitating  manner  were  suspicious,  but  his  figure 
reassured  her. 

"  You  must  find  someone  near  your  own  age,"  she 
said. 

"  It  is  only  our  bodies  that  grow  old.  Our  hearts 
remain  young." 

"  Do  they  ? "  said  Hilary. 

"  You  who  are  so  learned — so  emancipated — you 
would  not  care  for  looks  in  your  husband.  What  are 
looks?  They  vanish." 

"  I  don't  care  for  a  husband  at  all,"  said  Miss 
Frere.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  marry." 

"  That  is  young  girl's  talk.  Every  woman  should 
marry  and  have  her  own  home,  where  she  is  the 
queen.  A  lonely  life  is  nothing.  I  have  tried  it 
and  can  tell  you.  At  first  you  think  it  is  fine  ;  you 
are  free  ;  you  can  cut  a  dash  ;  you  spend  your  money 
as  you  like  ;  you  knock  about  the  world.  Then  one 
day  you  wake  up  and  are  old.  Soon  your  life  ends. 
There  is  no  one  to  care  whether  you  live  or  die  ;  and 
you  begin  to  think  of  a  home  where  there  are  two — 
one  to  enjoy  things  with  you,  to  be  happy  when  you 
are  happy,  and  sad  when  you  are  sad.  Her  eyes  near 
yours  to  see  what  is  beautiful,  her  ears  to  listen  with 
you  ;  and  perhaps  some  little  children  to  make  you 
young  again.  I  have  two  houses,  Miss  Hilary,  and 
much  money,  and  Hamburg  is  a  fine  town — much 
finer  than  London.  It  is  like  Venice,  only  the  houses 
are  white  and  clean.  Would  you  like  to  live  there  ?  " 


a  jfooltsb  Wrgin.  75 

Hilary  shook  her  head.  She  hated  to  hurt  her 
friend.  He  blinked  at  her  through  his  spectacles, 
and  she  met  his  mild,  kindly  smile. 

"  Think  over  it,"  he  urged.  "  You  need  not  make 
up  your  mind  to-night.  To-morrow  is  also  a  day.  I 
know  that  I  am  not  exactly  a  Romeo,  but  I  can  offer 
my  wife  a  beautiful  existence  ;  and  I  am  a  good 
fellow." 

"  I  am  sure  you  are,"  said  Hilary.  She  listened 
rather  anxiously  for  the  music  to  stop.  She  knew 
that  when  it  did  some  of  the  dancers  would  come 
out  here  for  air.  "  I  really  do  not  mean  to  marry," 
she  added.  "  I  should  hate  housekeeping  and  all 
that." 

"  We  will  take  a  good  cook,"  said  Herr  Hansen. 
"  Do  come,  Miss  Hilary." 

"  No,"  said  Hilary.     "  I  cannot." 

"  I  am  very  unhappy,"  said  Herr  Hansen.  "  I  wish 
I  was  not  so  old.  It  is  true  that  I  am  too  old  for  a 
young  girl." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Hilary  ;  "  but  if 
you  were  twenty  years  younger  I  should  still  say  No  ; 
and  if  Romeo  himself  came,  I  should  bid  him  begone 
from  my  balcony." 

"  My  child,"  said  Herr  Hansen,  in  a  fatherly  way, 
"  when  happiness  comes,  do  not  throw  it  away.  It 
may  only  come  once." 

He  got  up  when  he  had  spoken  and  walked  a  few 
steps  toward  the  open  window,  where  he  was  met  by 
a  lively  group  of  young  people,  who  had  finished 
their  dance,  and  were  streaming  out  of  the  hot  room. 
Hilary  remained  hidden  and  silent  for  a  little.  When 
one  of  the  moon-gazing  couples  discovered  her,  she 
got  up  hurriedly  and  returned  to  her  neglected  duties. 

"  I  wish  you  would  find  some  partners  for  Sophia 
Theodore,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  directly  she  came  across 
her  daughter.  "  People  say  that  modern  young  men 
are  mercenary,  but  no  one  would  think  so  to  see  the 
fuss  they  make  about  dancing  with  thirty  thousand 
pounds." 


76  Gbe  <3rag0bopper0. 

Hilary  did  what  she  could  ;  but  before  she  had 
canvassed  many  young  men,  Dick  claimed  her  for  the 
supper  dance.  It  was  a  waltz,  and  in  spite  of  the 
heat  they  both  enjoyed  it.  Then,  while  the  first  batch 
went  into  the  dining  room,  those  left  behind  had  an 
"extra."  Hilary  and  Dick  sat  out  on  the  veranda 
while  that  proceeded.  They  went  in  to  supper  rather 
late,  got  a  little  table  to  themselves,  and  enjoyed  their 
chicken  and  champagne  ;  but  Hilary's  mood  did  not 
seem  to  Dick  propitious.  Once  she  hardly  heard 
what  he  said ;  once  he  saw  her  take  up  the  poppies 
and  glance  at  them  with  wistful  eyes.  He  felt  in- 
clined to  throw  them  from  her. 

"  What  has  become  of  Herr  Hansen  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  You  were  sitting  on  the  veranda  with  him  a  little 
while  ago." 

"  Yes,  but  I've  not  seen  him  since." 

Dick  felt  encouraged,  and  proposed  that  when  they 
had  finished  supper  they  should  go  and  sit  on  the 
veranda. 

"  Because  you  want  to  smoke  ?  "  said  Hilary. 

"  Did  Herr  Hansen  smoke  ?  "  inquired  Dick. 

"  No  ;  but  you  are  not  bound  to  imitate  him  in 
every  respect,  are  you  ? " 

Hilary  stumbled  over  the  end  of  her  query  and 
turned  suspiciously  red.  Dick  looked  at  her  keenly. 

"  I  may  be  glad  to  do  so,"  he  said,  getting  up. 
"  How  did  he  entertain  you  ? " 

For  the  moment  Hilary  could  walk  on  a  little  ahead 
and  make  no  reply.  They  had  to  pass  through  the 
drawing  room,  crowded  now  with  dancers ;  the  wall 
flowers  as  well  as  the  beauties  were  on  their  feet. 
Even  the  lazy  young  men  had  become  more  alert,  and 
the  doorways  were  less  thickly  decorated  than  before. 
Outside,  on  the  veranda,  two  or  three  couples  were  star- 
gazing, so  Dick  and  Hilary  descended  to  the  garden. 
Here  they  met  Arthur  and  Nell  discussing  the  ad- 
vantages of  croquet  by  moonlight.  The  argument 
seemed  to  be  one  of  many  points  and  to  require  con- 


a  tfoolteb  Utrgfn.  77 

centration ;  at  any  rate,  the  debaters  wandered  away 
together  and  disappeared  among  the  elms. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  go  back  to  the  house,"  said 
Hilary,  standing  still.  "  Mother  might  want  me." 

"  Come  once  round,"  said  Dick,  in  a  wheedling 
voice.  "  It's  our  dance,  you  know." 

"  Light  your  cigar,  then.  I  know  what  slaves  men 
are  to  their  silly  little  habits." 

As  Hilary  spoke  a  large  moth  flew  wildly  against 
her  face,  and  with  a  sudden  startled  movement  she 
stumbled  against  Dick.  If  he  had  not  been  stalwart 
they  would  both  have  fallen,  but  he  was  quick,  and 
helped  her  to  regain  her  footing.  As  he  did  so,  he 
drew  her  arm  through  his. 

"  Do  you  think  I  need  support  ? "  said  Hilary,  half 
vexed,  half  amused. 

"  There  might  be  another  moth  about,"  said  Dick. 

"If  you  think  I  am  afraid  of  moths  or  mice,  or 
even  beetles, — yes,  even  beetles, — you  are  mistaken. 
I  am  not  so  silly.  That  moth  did  not  frighten  me,  it 
surprised  me.  Perhaps,  as  you  are  a  man,  you  do 
not  see  the  difference." 

"  Has  not  a  man  eyes  ?" 

"  Don't  gibe,  Dick.  I'm  serious.  Come,  and  sit 
down  in  the  summer  house.  I've  twisted  my  foot  a 
little.  No.  You  needn't  tear  off  for  doctors  and 
rouse  the  household.  It's  nothing.  I  shall  be  able 
to  dance  in  five  minutes." 

But  in  five  minutes  neither  of  them  had  moved  from 
the  little  summer  house,  which  was  moonlit  and 
sheltered.  Carnations  and  lilies,  growing  just  outside, 
sent  in  their  fragrance  ;  jessamine  hung  unpruned 
about  the  entry  ;  the  night  wind  fanned  through  the 
elm  branches,  and  the  murmur  of  it  mingled  with  the 
dance  music  that  came  faintly  and  brokenly  across 
the  garden. 

"  It.'s  getting  too  hot  in  London,"  said  Hilary.  "  I 
shall  be  glad  to  go  away.  This  morning  in  Regent 
Street  I  could  hardly  breathe." 

"  Are  you  going  away  ?" 


78  Cbe  (Brassboppers. 

"  Oh  !  I  suppose  so.  We  always  go  away  for  the 
autumn  months." 

"  But  have  you  made  your  plans  ?  Will  your  father 
get  three  months'  rest  ?  He  needs  it." 

"  He  won't  get  it.  He  has  often  been  telegraphed 
for  after  a  few  days.  It  vexes  my  mother  when  it 
happens." 

"  Isn't  it  rather  lonely  for  him  when  you  are  away  ? " 

"  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said  Hilary.  "  Perhaps 
it  is  ;  but  he  never  makes  any  objection  on  that  score. 
He  only  complains  of  the  expense." 

"Well,  it  is  his  business  to  think  of  that,"  said 
Dick. 

"  I  wish  I  had  plenty  of  money,"  said  Hilary. 

"  Oh  !  do  you  ?  I  shouldn't  have  thought  you'd 
care  about  it." 

"  I'm  very  mercenary.  All  my  life  I've  seen  the 
disadvantage  of  being  short  of  money.  I  want  a  lot." 

"  You  wouldn't  marry  a  poor  man,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  well  !  I  could  share  my  money  with  him,  you 
know,  if  I  had  it." 

"Yes,"  said  Dick, "but  I  mean  if  you  hadn't  got 
it — as  things  are,  in  fact." 

"  Oh  !  as  things  are,  in  fact,"  said  Hilary  mockingly, 
"  I  don't  mean  to  marry  at  all." 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  would  rather  die  than  spend  my  life  with  a 
creature  I  considered  my  inferior  in  every  mental  and 
moral  capacity." 

Dick  looked  puzzled.  After  a  little  hesitation  he 
said  :  "  A  decent  man  never  does  think  in  that  way  of 
the  girl  he  wants  for  his  wife." 

"  You  are  dense,  Dick,"  cried  Hilary,  with  wide- 
open,  smiling  eyes.  "It  is  I  who  think  that  way 
about  men." 

"  I  didn't  know  we  were  such  a  bad  lot." 

"  You  have  been  ruined  by  centuries  of  despotic 
power  on  the  one  hand,  and  slavish  submission  on  the 
other." 

"  You  speak  like  a  book." 


a  ffoolisb  IDtrflin.  79 

"  It's  none  the  less  true." 

"  I  don't  see  much  to  choose  between  men  and 
women,  myself,"  said  Dick  rather  hotly.  "  On  the 
whole,  perhaps,  men  are  better.  They  gossip  less ; 
they  quarrel  less  ;  they  are  less  false  and  vain." 

"  They  quarrel  more ;  they  cheat  more ;  they  are 
more  selfish." 

"  And  yet  we  cannot  do  without  each  other,  can 
we  ? " 

"  I  am  going  to  try,"  said  Hilary,  with  decision. 
She  got  up  as  she  spoke,  and  seemed  to  expect  that 
Dick  would  follow  her.  But  he  leaned  back  in  the 
darkness,  and  spoke  with  some  trace  of  agitation. 
On  her  face,  as  she  stood  near  the  entry,  the  moonlight 
fell.  He  could  see  her  starry  eyes  ;  he  could  make 
out  the  determined,  half  angry  set  of  her  mouth. 

"  Hilary,"  he  said,  "  you  were  such  a  dear  little  girl 
five  or  six  years  ago." 

"  I  am  not  a  little  girl  now." 

"  I  know.     All   the   while   I   was  away  I  used  to 

picture  you  growing  up.     I  thought — I  hoped " 

His  voice  grew  uncertain,  and  he  stopped  a  moment. 
Hilary  took  a  step  away  from  him,  as  if  she  would 
elude  what  he  had  yet  to  say  :  but  he  sprang  to  his 
feet,  and  in  a  moment  got  ahead  of  her. 

"  I  want  you  for  my  wife,"  he  said,  with  a  deter- 
mination that  was  really  passionate,  but  which  she 
resented  as  unauthorized.  "  In  a  sense  what  you  say 
is  true.  No  man  worth  his  salt  thinks  himself  good 
enough  for  the  girl  he  loves.  Don't  you  see  how  it 
is  ?  I  will  kiss  your  feet  if  you  will  let  me,  and  yet 
my  arm  is  stronger  than  yours,  my  back  is  broader,  I 
want  to  hedge  you  in." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Dick.  You  always  were  ;  but 
that  is  just  the  conventional  attitude,  you  know." 

"  I   don't  care   what  names  you   call  it.     It's  the 
natural,  sensible  one.     Will  you  marry  me,  Hilary  ? " 
"  No,  I  will  not." 

Whether  he  took  this  prompt  denial  to  heart  much, 
Hilary  could  not  tell.  Just  then  he  said  nothing 


8o  cbe  (Braesboppere. 


more,  and  as  they  walked  back  to  the  house  together 
his  head  was  turned  away  from  her. 

"  Are  you  vexed,  Dick  ?  "  she  said,  after  a  time. 

"  I  have  more  to  say,  and  I  hardly  know  how  to 
say  it.  Come  and  sit  down  again,  and  let  us  talk 
things  out.  I've  got  to  make  you  change  your  mind 
before  we  part." 

They  had  come  to  an  iron  seat  at  one  end  of  the 
lawn,  and  Hilary  sat  down  on  it. 

"  You  won't  do  that,"  she  said. 

"  Listen,  then.  I  saw  your  father  this  afternoon. 
I  asked  his  consent." 

"  How  proper  of  you  !  " 

"  He  gave  it  —  willingly." 

"  I  dare  say.  Father  was  always  fond  of  you  ;  for 
that  matter,  so  am  I." 

"  Don't  you  care  to  please  your  father  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  But  I  must  please  myself  first.  You 
see  that,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No.     1  can't  say  that  I  do." 

"  We  don't  agree  about  anything." 

"  It  seems  not." 

"  Perhaps  you  like  the  idea  of  a  cat  and  dog  life." 

"  I  like  the  idea  of  a  life  with  you." 

"  O  Dick  !  "  exclaimed  Hilary,  in  a  mock  woeful 
voice,  "  that  I  should  live  to  hear  you  make  pretty 
speeches." 

"  I  don't  find  it  easy,  I  confess,"  he  said  grimly. 

"  It  is  your  own  fault.     You  ought  to  understand." 

"  What  ?  " 

"That  women  have  grown  and  changed.  We  no 
longer  find  our  only  happiness  in  marriage.  I  want 
my  life  to  be  a  wide  one." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  Will  you  teach  in  a  school, 
or  write  for  the  magazines,  or  rant  at  hole-and-corner 
meetings  ?  You  talk  nonsense." 

"  You  are  narrow." 

Dick  wished  he  might  swear  —  chiefly  at  himself. 
He  had  been  so  determined  to  keep  his  temper,  to  see 
that  Hilary  kept  hers,  And  now,  instead  of  melting 


fc  roolisb  Wr0ln. 


Under  the  ardor  of  his  arguments,  she  was  up  in  arms 
against  him,  indignant,  cap-&-pie. 

11  If  you  expect  to  marry  a  man  without  faults,  of 
course  you  will  be  disappointed,"  he  said  rather  irrele- 
vantly. "  But  why  should  you  ?  You  are  not  fault- 
less yourself,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  I  should  expect  my  husband  to  think  me  so,"  said 
Hilary,  with  a  provoking  smile. 

"  Then  you  had  better  marry  a  fool,"  said  Dick,  out 
of  patience.  "  I  dare  say  you  will." 

"  Well,  no,  Dick,"  said  Hilary,  her  eyes  dancing 
with  mischief.  "  I  have  explained  that  I  will  not." 

So,  for  the  moment,  Hilary  had  the  best  of  it. 
Dick  said  nothing  more,  and  as  soon  as  he  could  he 
went  home.  As  he  was  putting  on  his  coat  he  saw 
Mr.  Frere,  and  he  could  not  resist  the  appeal  for  news 
that  spoke  in  his  host's  face. 

"  It's  no  good,"  he  said,  under  his  breath. 

"  What,  my  boy  ?  "  said  Mr.  Frere  anxiously. 

"  Hilary  has  refused  me." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  she  prefers  Hansen  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     She  tells  me  she  won't  marry  at  all." 

"  But  don't  girls  always  say  that  ?  " 

The  two  men  had  gone  just  outside  the  front  door, 
where  they  could  speak  unheard.  Dick  saw  that 
Mr.  Frere  looked  worried  and  haggard.  He  was 
biting  his  lips  nervously,  and  his  fingers  trembled  as 
they  touched  his  whiskers. 

"  Hilary  meant  what  she  said." 

"  I  must  talk  to  her,"  said  Mr.  Frere.  "  She  is  a 
very  good  girl  ;  she  will  listen  to  reason." 

"  I  would  rather  she  listened  to  me,"  said  Dick. 

"  Did  you  tell  her  how  much  I  wished  it  ?  " 

"  I  said  something  of  the  kind." 

The  two  men  were  silent,  and  after  a  moment's 
pause  Dick  moved  away. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Frere  followed  him. 

"  Did  you  leave  a  stone  unturned  ?  "  he  asked  anx- 
iously. 


8*  ftbe  (Brassboppers. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dick;  "I'm  not  good  at 
talking." 

He  stopped  again,  and  evidently  had  something 
more  to  say,  something  he  found  it  difficult  to 
express. 

"  I  told  Hilary  she  ought  to  think  of  you,"  he 
began.  "  At  the  same  time " 

Mr.  Frere  did  not  help  him  out.  He  listened,  but 
his  eyes  showed  that  he  was  brooding  over  the  news. 

"  A  man  wants  to  be  married  for  his  own  sake," 
finished  Dick,  with  an  effort. 

"  Of  course,  of  course  !  "  assented  Mr.  Frere. 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  best  to  say  nothing  to  Hilary." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  Even  if  you  persuaded  her  to  say  Yes,  it  would 
not  be  much  satisfaction  to  me,  unless  she  changed  a 
good  deal." 

"  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Frere.  And  the  two  men  parted, 
after  shaking  hands. 

Mr.  Frere  found,  when  he  got  back  into  the  house, 
that  his  guests  were  beginning  to  go.  For  the  next 
half  hour  he  was  busy  speeding  them.  It  struck  two 
as  the  last  carriage  drove  away  and  he  shut  the  garden 
gate.  He  yawned  with  weariness,  and  hurried  into 
the  dining  room,  where  he  had  seen  his  wife  and 
daughters  a  little  while  ago  ;  but  the  girls  had  gone 
to  bed.  His  wife  was  waiting  there  by  herself,  and  he 
saw  in  her  face  and  manner  traces  of  extreme  agita- 
tion. In  fact,  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears,  and  her 
voice  broke  as  she  tried  to  speak  to  him. 

"  Henry,"  she  said,  "  the  child  has  refused  Herr 
Hansen." 

Mr.  Frere  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  looked  fixedly 
at  the  floor.  His  brow  was  contracted  in  anxious 
wrinkles  ;  his  eyelids  concealed  his  eyes  ;  he  bit  his 
lips  nervously. 

"  I  have  always  told  you  not  to  build  too  much  on 
the  girls  marrying  well,"  he  said. 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  his  wife,  "  now  you  think  you  are  in 
the  right  when  you  croak  like  a  raven.  I  always  told 


B  ffoolfsb  IDirsin.  83 

you  our  girls  would  have  offers.  If  Hilary  dismisses 
a  millionaire,  it  does  not  affect  my  argument." 

"  It  affects  mine,  though.     It  makes  it  true." 

"  I  know  she  will  marry  Dick  Lorimer  ;  such  a  poor 
match,  in  comparison." 

"  You  may  make  yourself  easy  on  that  score,"  said 
Mr.  Frere  ;  "  she  has  refused  Dick,  too,  to-night." 

His  wife  stared  at  him,  first  in  bewilderment,  then 
in  distress,  and  then  with  a  broad,  bland,  satisfied 
smile. 

"  Two  men  in  one  evening !  Now,  who  is  right, 
Henry  ?  You  or  I  ? " 

She  pulled  a  dish  of  little  cakes  toward  her,  and 
poured  out  two  glasses  of  champagne. 

"We  must  plan  our  summer  journey  next,"  she 
said.  "  I  have  a  fancy  for.  Nord.erney.  We  could  take 
Hamburg  by  the  way." 

"  Norderney  !  Hamburg  !  the  very  night  of  this 
dance  !  "  cried  Mr.  Frere.  "  I  tell  you  I  cannot  afford 
it.  We  must  not  travel  this  year." 

"  We  all  need  a  change,"  said  his  wife  placidly. 
"  Nell  looks  very  pale.  You  would  not  like  her  to  be 
ill.  Her  ticket  will  not  come  to  more  than  a  doctor's 
bill,  and  we  are  obliged  to  live — either  here  or  there." 

"  Then  go  to  Worthing  or  Aldborough  for  a  fort- 
night." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  with  the  obstinacy  that 
often  teaches  a  weak  nature  to  act  with  disastrous 
effect.  "  I  like  the  idea  of  Norderney.  I  do  not  feel 
well,  either.  I  want  a  change  from  housekeeping 
worries.  I  cannot  stand  the  discomforts  of  English 
seaside  lodgings.  Besides,  you  need  a  cheerful  holi- 
day." 

"  What  I  need  is  peace  of  mind,"  said  Mr.  Frere. 
"  I  want  to  sleep  at  night,  and  not  lie  awake  thinking 
that  you  are  beggars,  and  that  I  am  a  scoundrel — yes, 
a  scoundrel.  There  is  no  other  name  for  a  man  who 
has  a  wife  and  children  and  yet  spends  every  penny 
he  earns — a  coward,  a  scoundrel,  a  heartless  fool — and 
yet,  my  God  !  how  can  I  help  it?  What  can  I  do  ?" 


84  tEbe  (Srassboppers. 

He  had  half  risen,  and  then,  after  all,  had  sunk 
down  again,  his  face  ashen  gray,  his  lips  twitching 
with  excitement. 

"You  do  upset  yourself  so  dreadfully, and  me, too," 
said  Mrs.  Frere,  looking  very  uncomfortable.  "  I  am 
sure  you  give  us  all  we  want." 

"  If  I  die  to-night,  you  may  be  in  the  streets." 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  speak  of  such  awful  things. 
It  is  so  wicked  to  look  forward  to  the  worst.  There 
are  troubles  enough  in  the  world  without  creating 
imaginary  ones.  If  you  had  not  let  Hilary  go  to  col- 
lege she  would  never  have  refused  Herr  Hansen. 
Now,  that  is  a  real  misfortune." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

DICK'S   FOLLY. 

A  DAY  or  two  after  the  dance  Dick  suddenly  made 
up  his  mind  to  go  to  Hamburg  on  business.  He 
carried  introductions  from  Mr.  Frere  and  from  Herr 
Hansen  with  him,  and  as  he  also  had  friends  of  his 
own  there,  his  visit  promised  to  be  sociable  as  well  as 
lucrative.  He  knew  the  city,  and  liked  it  ;  but  on 
this  occasion  he  did  not  find  himself  amused.  The 
business  hours  were  satisfactory  enough.  His  work 
occupied  his  mind,  tired  his  body,  and  brought  him 
pleasant  signs  of  success.  It  was  play-time  that  hung 
rather  heavily  on  his  hands.  He  felt  out  of  spirits, 
and  anxious  about  his  best  friends.  He  wondered 
what  they  were  doing,  and  whether  Hilary  would 
marry  Herr  Hansen.  In  Hamburg  he  heard  Herr 
Hansen  spoken  of  with  much  respect.  Dick  got  tired 
of  his  name.  He  heard  it  too  often,  because  he  saw 
a  good  deal  of  some  people  called  Werner,  who  were 
evidently  very  intimate  with  Hilary's  stout  admirer, 
and  quite  unsuspicious  that  he  could  cast  eyes  at  an 
English  girl. 

Herr  Werner  was  a  flourishing  man  of  business  ;  his 
wife  had  been  at  school  with  Mrs.  Frere,  and  still 
corresponded  with  her  in  terms  of  adjectival  affection. 
They  had  a  large  family,  most  of  whom  were  already 
married  and  out  in  the  world.  Two  daughters 
remained  at  home.  One  was  still  a  schoolgirl ;  the 
other,  Olga,  had  passed  her  eighteenth  birthday  and 
required  establishment.  Frau  Werner  encouraged  the 
girl  to  set  her  heart  on  Herr  Hansen ;  and  the  girl 
had  been  quite  docile  until  Dick  appeared,  when  it 
.was  plain  to  her  mother  that  she  would  readily  have 

85 


86  tlbc  (Brassboppers. 

given  her  heart  to  him.  The  quiet,  keen-eyed  English- 
man became  Olga  Werner's  hero.  She  dreamed  of  him, 
watched  for  him,  wept  for  him  when  he  sailed  away. 

The  Werners  would  probably  have  given  him  their 
daughter,  if  he  had  asked  for  her.  Modest  as  his 
present  fortunes  were,  business  men  believed  in  his 
future.  He  was  known  to  be  honest,  able,  and  hard- 
working. Dick  missed  a  considerable  step  to  worldly 
success  when  he  stared  so  absently  at  Olga  Werner's 
blue  eyes.  She  would  have  come  to  her  husband 
with  a  dowry  ;  and  an  alliance  with  her  would  have 
meant  an  alliance  with  some  great  mercantile  houses, 
as  useful  to  a  young  trader  as  the  protection  of  a 
great  political  power  may  be  to  a  little  new  one. 
Frau  Werner  quite  thought  the  match  might  still  take 
place.  She  did  not  feel  desperately  anxious  for  it ; 
she  had  other  strings  to  her  bow,  and,  on  the  whole, 
she  preferred  a  son-in-law  of  her  own  nation ;  if 
possible,  of  her  own  town.  But  she  liked  Dick 
very  well,  and  she  expected  that  he  would  eventually 
come  forward.  A  woman  who  has  married  two 
daughters  knows  that  young  men  do  not  always 
conduct  a  courtship  with  the  hot,  unbroken  ardor  of 
romance. 

Meanwhile  Dick  returned  to  London  without  a 
suspicion.  The  Werners  were  part  of  Hamburg. 
Next  time  business  took  him  there  he  would  see 
them  again  as  he  would  see  the  Jungfernstieg  and 
sail  on  the  Alster — in  the  natural  course  of  things. 
In  London  he  had  other  pleasures,  and  older,  closer 
friends.  The  first  person  he  wished  to  see  was  Mr. 
Frere.  He  asked  himself  whether  he  could  go  to 
the  house  as  usual,  though  Hilary  had  rejected  him, 
and  he  decided  that  he  would.  He  called  there  one 
evening,  two  or  three  days  after  his  return,  and  found 
Mr.  Frere  sitting  by  himself  on  the  veranda.  Dick 
got  a  fright  when  he  saw  him,  he  looked  so  ill. 

"  All  alone  ? "  said  Dick,  looking  round. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Frere.  "  My  wife  and  the  girls 
are  at  the  theater.  Arthur  Preston  is  with  them." 


87 

Dick  sat  down  and  pulled  out  his  pipe.  Mr.  Frere 
was  smoking  too.  An  evening  paper  lay  on  the 
table. 

"  All  well  ? "  said  Dick. 

"  My  wife  wants  to  go  to  Norderney,"  replied  Mr. 
Frere.  "  She  says  Nell  looks  pale." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  God  knows  !  " 

Mr.  Frere  spoke  as  if  Dick's  question  referred  to 
their  general  prospects,  and  not  merely  to  a  summer 
holiday. 

"  Why  don't  you  have  a  talk  to  Theodore  and  get 
something  settled  ? "  said  Dick. 

"  Because  I  haven't  a  leg  to  stand  on." 

"  I  can't  believe  it.  Your  knowledge,  your  experi- 
ence, your  personal  acquaintance  with  both  buyers 
and  sellers  must  be  of  value.  Theodore  doesn't 
care  about  work  nowadays.  He  wants  to  go  into 
Parliament  and  toady  the  smart  people.  I  should 
think  he  needs  you  as  much  as  you  need  him." 

Mr.  Frere  shook  his  head,  but  he  said  nothing. 
He  seemed  to  be  too  much  out  of  spirits  to  discuss 
his  prospects,  and  too  listless  to  talk  of  anything  else. 
Dick  took  up  the  evening  paper ;  his  eye  had  been 
caught  by  a  big  headline  about  the  panic  on  the 
Stock  Exchange. 

"  That  bubble  has  burst,"  he  said,  alluding  to  the 
crash  of  the  great  firm  that  had  chiefly  caused  the 
panic.  It  was  unnecessary  to  mention  the  bubble 
more  definitely ;  the  whole  City  had  roared  its  name 
for  a  week.  He  looked  up,  expecting  Mr.  Frere  to 
make  some  remark,  to  join  him  in  righteous  denun- 
ciation, but  the  older  man  only  sighed. 

"  I  know  a  young  fool  who  got  in  at  the  top.  He 
is  cleared  out.  I  am  very  sorry  for  him,"  said  Dick. 

"  Is  he  married  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Then  what  does  it  matter  ?  If  I  was  alone  in  the 
world  to-night,  I  could  hold  my  head  up.  But  how 
I  am  to  tell  my  wife  and  children,  Heaven  knows." 


<5rassbopper$. 

"  Tell  them  what  ? "  asked  Dick,  with  an  uncom- 
fortable  sensation  of  fear. 

"  I'm  cleared  out  and  worse,"  said  Mr.  Frere,  in 
a  shaky,  feeble  voice.  "Arthur  Preston  put  me  on 
to  Fagin's  Trust  Shares  a  month  ago.  There's  a 
call." 

"  How  many  shares  have  you  got  ?  " 

"  Four  hundred  ;  and  the  call  is  five  pounds." 

"  Two  thousand  pounds  !  "  said  Dick  blankly. 

"  I've  just  been  all  over  the  house,  estimating  the 
furniture  ;  but  it  is  old-fashioned.  I  suppose  we 
must  sell  it  and  turn  out.  I  don't  know  what  else  we 
can  do.  I  haven't  told  my  wife  yet.  But  whatever 
we  do,  if  we  sell  our  beds  and  our  spoons,  I  can't 
raise  two  thousand  pounds  before  the  call  is  due, 
unless  Theodore  helps  me,  and  he  is  the  last  man  in 
the  world  I  want  to  ask." 

"  I  suppose  if  you  drew  two  thousand  pounds  out 
of  the  business,  you  would  have  nothing  much  left 
for  your  private  expenses  till  Christmas." 

"  Not  a  farthing.  I  have  been  making  about  three 
thousand  a  year,  and  spending  more." 

Dick  was  silent  for  a  long  time,  turning  over  ways 
and  means. 

"  If  you  could  begin  to  spend  less " 

"  That's  what  I  mean  to  do,  if  only  Theodore  con- 
sents to  renew  the  partnership,"  interrupted  Mr. 
Frere.  "  Sometimes  I  hope  he  will — I  go  up  and 
down — the  suspense  is  awful.  Of  course,  I  have  the 
whole  business  at  my  fingers'  ends.  I  should  let  this 
house,  and  go  into  a  much  smaller  one." 

"  Yes.  But  how  are  you  going  to  get  this  two 
thousand  pounds  ?  "  asked  Dick.  Ever  since  he  had 
heard  of  the  new  liability,  he  had  been  trying  to 
harden  his  heart  against  his  old  friend  ;  but  he  did 
not  succeed.  When  Mr.  Frere  spoke  eagerly, 
Hilary's  likeness  to  him  became  apparent.  Just 
now,  Dick  had  seen  his  face  brighten  suddenly  as 
hers  did  sometimes.  The  father  had  looked  at  him 
as  the  daughter  did,  with  guileless,  consulting  eyes. 


BfCfc'S  follg.  89 

His  question  brought  the  shadows  back  again,  and 
he  felt  as  if  he  had  spoken  with  brutal  bluntness ; 
nevertheless,  he  stuck  to  his  point. 

"  You  must  get  it,  you  know,"  he  said. 

"  I  suppose  I  can  raise  it  somehow  by  a  bill  of  sale 
on  the  furniture  and  my  profits  for  the  second  half  of 
this  year." 

"  But  what  will  you  all  live  on — here  ?  " 

"  We  shall  not  be  here  if  the  house  is  let  and  the 
furniture  sold,"  said  Mr.  Frere.  "  I  suppose  we  must 
go  into  lodgings.  The  girls  had  better  look  for  situa- 
tions. Then  we  shall  be  ready  for  next  year,  when 
Theodore  kicks  me  out.  I  suppose  I  can  get  a  clerk- 
ship. You  will  be  going  ahead  soon,  Dick  ;  you  must 
find  a  corner  for  me." 

Dick  felt  too  much  perplexed  and  troubled  to  smile. 
He  stared  at  the  elms  in  the  garden,  and  wondered 
what  he  could  do  to  help  his  old  friend.  He  could 
not  afford  to  lose  two  thousand  pounds,  and  yet  he 
was  slowly  making  up  his  mind  to  run  the  risk. 

"  You  must  not  sell  your  furniture  and  go  into 
lodgings,"  he  said  finally.  "  That  would  be 
wretched." 

"  I  must  do  something  of  the  kind,"  said  Mr. 
Frere. 

"You  can  get  the  money  if — suppose  I  back  a 
bill?" 

Mr.  Frere  looked  at  Dick  with  a  swift,  vanishing 
expression  of  relief.  It  lit  up  his  face  for  a  moment, 
and  then  faded  again,  leaving  it  as  hunted  and  weary 
as  before. 

"  My  dear  boy,"  he  said,  "  it  isn't  as  if  I  could  meet 
the  bill.  How  should  I  pay  you  back  ?  " 

"  If  you  live  at  a  lower  rate,  you  can  pay  it  back 
gradually." 

u  But  how  soon  ? " 

"  You  will  go  on  with  Theodore  next  year,"  said 
Dick,  nodding  his  head  confidently.  "  He  is  too 
sharp  a  chap  to  let  you  go.  He  may  offer  you  a  fixed 
share,  I  suppose— oh  !  I'm  not  afraid," 


9°  Gbe  (Srassboppers. 

"  My  dear  Dick,"  said  Mr.  Frere  huskily.  The 
young  man's  belief  in  him,  his  cheerful  expectations, 
were  as  helpful  as  the  actual  offer  of  money.  "  But 
it's  unfair  to  you,"  he  resumed.  He  knew  that  Dick's 
resources  were  slender,  and  the  business  demands  on 
them  great. 

"  I  shan't  be  spending  much  myself,"  said  Dick 
evasively. 

"  I  wonder  whether  I  can  make  my  wife  under- 
stand." 

"  Is  it  necessary  ? " 

"  Perhaps  not." 

Dick  had  no  desire  that  Hilary  should  hear  of  the 
transaction  ;  and  Mr.  Frere  knew  exactly  what  his 
wife  would  say  if  he  told  her  about  it.  She  would 
listen  inattentively,  assure  him  that  business  matters 
were  not  her  province,  and  observe  that  her  husband 
never  mentioned  them  at  home  unless  they  happened 
to  be  disagreeable.  The  tradesmen  had  to  be  paid 
whether  the  City  was  in  a  good  humor  or  a  bad  one, 
and  no  man  could  expect  his  wife  to  feed  the  house- 
hold on  nothing,  just  because  some  stupid  shares  went 
down.  If  they  went  down,  they  would  also  go  up, 
she  supposed.  She  could  not  understand  why  her 
husband  should  worry  over  such  an  everyday  affair. 
She  could  not  easily  reduce  their  expenses,  because  at 
all  times  she  practiced  thrift,  for  the  pleasure  of  it, 
and  because  it  was  her  nature.  They  might  give  up 
the  Times  and  take  the  Standard  instead  if  Mr.  Frere 
pleased  ;  and  give  sixpence  instead  of  a  shilling  to 
the  German  band. 

Mr.  Frere  had  turned  dreamily  silent  while  he 
carried  on  this  imaginary  conversation.  It  was  not 
altogether  imaginary.  The  two  suggestions  for 
retrenchment  had  actually  been  made  by  Mrs.  Frere 
last  time  they  talked  of  money.  She  could  not  under- 
stand why  her  husband  had  not  accepted  them  with 
greater  gratitude  ;  and  she  had  said  that  her  own 
economical  bent  must  be  a  very  strong  one,  otherwise 
it  would  long  ago  have  been  discouraged  by  Mr, 


Frere's  indifference.  Eighteenpence  a  week  saved 
was  three  pounds  eighteen  a  year.  It  would  buy  Nell 
gloves. 

Dick  stayed  until  the  ladies  returned  from  the 
theater.  They  came  out  on  the  veranda  and  talked 
about  the  play.  Hilary  wore  her  green  gown,  and  a 
long  pale  green  cloak  with  silver  clasps.  The  play 
had  amused  her,  and  she  laughed  a  good  deal  as  she 
told  her  father  the  story.  Now  and  then  she  turned 
to  Dick  with  an  explanation,  an  invitation  to  laugh 
with  her  at  the  joke.  He  had  never  seen  her  in  better 
spirits,  and  his  own  rose  at  the  thought  of  what  he 
had  done.  His  wish  had  been  to  make  a  new  home 
for  her,  and  that  had  failed.  Instead,  he  was  going 
to  prevent  her  old  home  from  falling  to  pieces.  As 
he  loved  her,  he  was  glad  to  do  it,  although  until  she 
came  he  had  not  felt  very  light-hearted,  The  risk  of 
loss  appeared  greater  to  him  than  he  could  admit  to 
Mr.  Frere.  He  thought  worse  of  his  old  friend's 
health,  and  worse  of  his  prospects,  than  he  liked  to 
say.  Dick's  business  conscience  pricked  him  ;  his 
private  conscience  applauded  and  encouraged.  The 
two  were  at  war  till  Hilary  came.  After  all,  Dick  told 
himself  as  he  looked  at  her,  if  he  chose  to  give  up  a 
sum  of  money  for  her  sake,  even  though  she  would 
not  marry  him,  it  was  no  man's  business  to  call  him  a 
fool.  All  the  money  he  made  might  have  been  hers, 
had  she  only  nodded  her  pretty  head. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

BAD  NEWS 

ONE  hot  evening  toward  the  end  of  August  Hilary 
had  taken  her  books  into  the  garden  and  was  trying 
to  read  there.  The  Freres  had  not  gone  to  Nor- 
derney.  Indeed,  they  had  not  been  away  at  all.  For 
the  first  time  in  their  lives  the  girls  were  spending 
August  in  London  instead  of  on  a  Swiss  mountain 
top,  in  a  German  watering-place,  or  at  the  English 
seaside.  Every  day  their  mother  proposed  a  journey, 
and  every  day  their  father  managed  to  stave  it  off. 
The  discussions  were  interminable,  but  so  far  noth- 
ing had  come  of  them  but  the  acquisition  of  several 
new  guide-books  and  a  lively  European  correspond- 
ence as  to  terms  and  suitable  accommodation.  The 
girls  could  not  understand  why  their  mother  con- 
sented to  this  long  delay.  Everyone  they  knew  had 
left  town  long  since.  Mrs.  Theodore  and  Sophia 
were  at  Pontresina.  Arthur  Preston  was  on  his  way 
to  the  Dolomites.  Dick  Lorimer  had  gone  sea-fishing 
off  the  Cornish  coast. 

Even  the  daily  papers  wrote  of  mountain,  moor, 
and  sea.  Hilary  had  stumbled  on  a  leader  this  very 
morning  that  set  her  longing  for  salt  breezes,  for  pine 
forests,  for  moorland  hills,  for  anything  countrified, 
instead  of  the  stale,  dusty  streets  outside  their  garden 
gate.  Even  her  own  home  seemed  in  need  of  a 
cleansing  air  ;  at  any  rate,  everyone  in  it  looked  jaded 
and  irritable.  The  Greek  play  was  making  little 
progress.  Hilary  had  taken  it  into  the  garden  to- 
night, but  she  felt  languid  and  disinclined  for  work, 
and  before  she  had  considered  three  lines  her  mother 
appeared. 


Hews.  93 

"  I  can't  think  what  makes  your  father  so  late," 
she  said. 

Hilary  put  down  her  book  and  stared  absently 
across  the  garden.  Their  usual  dinner  hour  had 
gone  by,  and  there  was  no  sign  yet  of  Mr.  Frere. 

"  Perhaps  he  went  to  Cook's  to  get  those  return 
tickets,"  she  suggested. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,  my  dear.  He  said  only  this  morn- 
ing that  he  hadn't  the  money  for  them.  It  is  really 
dreadful.  We  cannot  do  without  a  change.  He 
does  not  see  that  it  is  an  absolute  necessity.  I  am 
sure  I  do  not  go  away  for  pleasure  ;  I  am  always  glad 
to  get  home  again." 

"I  don't  understand  the  sudden  difficulty,"  said 
Hilary.  "  Father's  circumstances  have  not  altered, 
have  they  ?  " 

"  That  is  just  what  you  never  know  with  a  business 
man.  You  have  to  guess  at  their  affairs  from  their 
tempers.  It  is  very  trying.  The  wife  of  a  man  who 
has  a  fixed  income  can  cut  her  coat  according  to  her 
cloth  ;  but  although  I  stint  and  save,  as  a  matter  of 
duty,  I  always  feel  that  it  is  trouble  thrown  away, 
What  is  the  good  of  choosing  cheap  fish  for  dinner 
when  a  single  telegram  that  very  day  may  have  lost 
you  thousands  ? " 

"  Perhaps  father  has  been  losing  money,"  said 
Hilary. 

"  I  dare  say.  Of  course,  we  have  both  had  our 
disappointments." 

She  sighed,  and  Hilary  opened  her  book  again.  It 
was  in  this  roundabout  way  that  Mrs.  Frere  re- 
proached her  daughter  over  and  over  again  in  the 
twenty-four  hours.  She  could  not  help  feeling  that 
things  were  going  a  little  wrong.  Her  prayers  to 
fortune  were  so  modest,  and  yet  they  seemed 
unheard ;  that  Hilary  should  marry  Herr  Hansen, 
that  Arthur  should  declare  himself,  that  Mr.  Frere 
should  keep  his  health  and  spirits — surely  to  ask  for 
these  events  to  happen  was  not  to  ask  for  much. 
They  wanted  a  lucky  breeze,  and  Mrs.  Frere  wished 


94  Gbe  <3rassbopper0. 

she  could  puff  out  her  cheeks  like  a  cherub,  and  blow 
one  the  right  way.  It  vexed  her  to  see  Nell  droop, 
and  even  fade  a  little. 

"  Perhaps  Arthur  will  not  marry  until  next  year," 
she  said  to  Hilary.  "  The  Stock  Exchange  is  very 
flat  just  now." 

She  often  made  a  remark  of  this  kind  to  her  elder 
daughter.  In  some  mysterious  way  it  seemed  to 
afford  her  relief  to  speak  of  Nell's  marriage  to  Arthur 
as  a  certainty,  even  while  she  fretted  over  its  delay. 

Hilary  looked  pensively  across  the  lawn  at  Nell, 
who  was  watering  a  bed  of  parched  geraniums, 
although  the  clouds  were  gathering  for  rain. 

"  I  don't  believe  much  in  Arthur,"  she  said. 

"  I  can't  think  why." 

Hilary  was  saved  for  the  moment  from  the  difficul- 
ties of  an  explanation.  A  servant  came  across  the 
lawn  to  ask  whether  dinner  should  be  served,  and 
to  say  that  the  cook  wanted  some  vanilla  for  a 
sauce.  Mrs.  Frere  ordered  dinner  at  once,  and  went 
back  to  the  house  to  get  the  vanilla  out  of  her  store- 
room. 

By  the  time  dinner  was  over  the  three  women  felt 
almost  anxious  about  Mr.  Frere.  He  never  stayed 
in  the  City  to  an  unusual  hour  without  sending  a 
telegram  or  a  clerk  with  a  message.  Why  had  he  not 
done  so  to-day  ?  Besides,  he  never  stayed  at  his 
office  until  ten  o'clock.  Such  a  thing  had  not  hap- 
pened once  since  they  were  married,  said  Mrs.  Frere. 
He  had  long  since  given  up  his  club. 

"  Suppose  he  has  been  run  over?  How  should  we 
know  it  ? "  inquired  his  wife. 

The  girls  thought  someone  would  be  from  the 
hospital  to  tell  them,  but  they  persuaded  their  mother 
not  to  sit  at  a  front  window  and  watch  for  a  hospital 
messenger.  Their  father  had  probably  gone  to  dine 
in  town  with  a  friend.  It  was  contrary  to  his  habits, 
but  not  quite  impossible.  Hilary  could  remember  an 
occasion  when  Dick's  father  had  arrived  from  India, 
and  carried  off  Mr.  Frere  from  the  office  to  the  Caf£ 


J3aD  flews.  95 

Royal.  She  remembered  the  telegram  coming  to 
explain  his  absence, 

"  That  is  what  I  mean,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  "  He 
has  always  sent  a  telegram." 

The  evening  had  grown  more  and  more  oppressive. 
The  girls  sat  out  on  the  veranda,  and  stared  at  the 
black  sky.  In  the  heavy  silence  that  heralded  a 
storm  every  sound  outside  reached  them  with  unac- 
customed clearness.  Mrs.  Frere  was  too  restless  to 
sit  down.  She  listened  for  her  husband's  latchkey, 
and  twice  went  to  the  door  on  a  false  alarm.  Very 
soon  it  began  to  lighten,  and  that  increased  her 
uneasiness.  The  girls  were  driven  back  to  the  draw- 
ing room,  and  found  it  difficult  to  breathe  there. 
They  opened  the  piano,  but  a  crash  of  thunder 
startled  them  away.  Nell  had  said  she  would  sing, 
but  she  could  not  chirp  through  a  storm  like  this  ;  it 
sounded  right  over  their  heads.  The  rain  had  not 
come  yet,  and  between  the  peals  there  was  a  breath- 
less silence.  They  heard  the  postman's  knock,  and 
then  a  fresh  flash  blinded  them  for  an  instant,  while 
the  crash  of  the  thunder  seemed  within  the  room. 

"  That  was  a  letter,"  said  Hilary,  "  and  no  one 
brings  it.  I  dare  say  the  servants  are  afraid." 

She  ran  into  the  front  hall  and  took  the  letter  out 
of  the  box.  It  was  only  a  package  of  patterns  for 
Nell.  But  as  she  stood  there  someone  came  up  the 
steps  and  rang,  and  with  a  swift  dread  of  bad  news, 
with  the  wish  to  intercept  it,  she  opened  the  door. 
To  her  surprise  she  saw  Dick  Lorimer  standing  out- 
side. He  came  in. 

"  I  thought  you  were  in  Cornwall,"  she  said. 

"  I  got  back  three  days  ago." 

They  shook  hands,  and  then  Hilary  turned  toward 
the  drawing  room. 

"  Isn't  your  father  smoking  ?  "  said  Dick.  "  I  rather 
want  to  see  him." 

He  was  close  to  the  "  library  "  door,  and  he  stopped 
there  as  if  he  wished  to  go  in.  He  looked  at  Hilary 
for  permission  to  do  so. 


96 

"  Father  has  not  come  home,"  explained  Hilary, 
"  We  can't  think  where  he  is." 

'  May  I  wait  for  him  ?  "  said  Dick. 

'  Of  course.     Do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  " 

<  No." 

'  Have  you  seen  him  to-day  ?  " 

•Yes." 

Hilary  noticed  that  Dick  hesitated  slightly  before 
he  replied.  She  turned  round  swiftly  and  faced 
him. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked,  trying  as  she 
spoke  to  read  the  truth  in  his  face.  What  she  read 
there  did  not  reassure  her.  His  eyes  were  full  of 
pity,  and  his  glance  was  grave. 

"Your  father  has  business  worries,"  he  said 
evasively. 

Hilary  did  not  press  her  question  further.  It  was 
impossible  to  ask  Dick  for  information  about  her 
father's  affairs ;  but  she  felt  uneasy.  They  went 
into  the  drawing  room  together,  and  Mrs.  Frere  asked 
him  what  he  meant  by  coming  out  in  the  midst  of 
such  a  storm.  He  had  no  plausible  answer  ready, 
and  as  he  tried  to  invent  one  he  saw  Hilary  staring  at 
him  in  bewilderment.  Luckily  the  storm  came  to  his 
aid.  When  conversation  is  interrupted  once  a  minute 
by  a  clap  of  thunder  it  is  apt  to  grow  erratic.  One 
flash  of  lightning  was  terrible.  Nell  buried  her  head 
in  the  sofa  cushions  after  it,  and  Mrs.  Frere  suggested 
that  they  should  all  adjourn  to  the  "  library,"  where 
there  were  closed  shutters  and  thick  curtains.  As 
they  filed  into  the  hall  they  heard  the  rain  begin, 
a  sudden  heavy  downpour  driving  against  the  win- 
dow panes.  Mrs.  Frere  said  that  the  library  fire 
should  be  lighted,  in  case  her  husband  came  home 
wet  through.  This  was  done.  Dick  was  allowed  to 
smoke.  Whisky  and  mineral  waters  were  placed  on 
the  table.  The  room  looked  well  lighted,  warm,  and 
cheerful ;  the  blaze  of  the  fire  was  pleasant  to  see. 

"  It  might  be  a  winter  evening,"  said  Nell.  "  This 
room  gets  very  stuffy  in  winter,  worse  than  it  is  to- 


JBaO  flewa.  97 

night;  but  you  look  like  summer,  Dick.  Anyone 
can  see  you  have  lived  in  a  boat  lately.  What  was 
the  place  like  ?  Would  it  do  for  us  ?  " 

"  It  was  roughish,"  said  Dick. 

"  You  are  quite  bronzed,"  said  Hilary,  looking  at 
him  contemplatively.  "  You  make  me  think  of  the 
sea.  I  know  what  you  have  been  doing.  You  have 
taken  your  boat  into  caves,  and  heard  the  waves 
plash  against  the  sides,  and  then  you  have  come  out 
into  the  sunshine  again  ;  you  have  watched  the  gulls, 
and  you  have  been  drenched  by  spray  ;  you  have 
lived  on  fresh  fish  and  salt  air.  I  wish  we  could  go  off 
to-morrow,  anyhow — anywhere.  London  in  August 
is  terrible.  Let  us  go  off  to-morrow,  mamma,  and 
get  brown  and  blistered  like  Dick.  I  can't  think  why 
we  are  all  sitting  here  to-night." 

"  I  am  so  unhappy  about  your  father,"  said  Mrs. 
Frerec  "  Where  can  he  be  ?  " 

She  had  unfastened  one  corner  of  the  shutters,  and, 
half  hidden  by  the  heavy  curtain,  she  stood  close  to 
the  window  on  the  watch. 

Hilary  felt  convinced  that  Dick  was  uneasy,  too. 
She  knew  him  too  well  to  be  misled  by  his  quiet  man- 
ner. He  smoked  his  pipe  ;  he  filled  himself  a  glass 
of  whisky  and  Apollinaris  ;  he  sat  still  in  his  chair  ; 
but  Hilary  observed  that  he  listened  to  every  sound 
outside,  and  that,  in  spite  of  the  late  hour,  he  seemed 
determined  to  stay  on. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  won't  get  much  talk  with  father 
when  he  does  come  home,"  she  said. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  said  Dick. 

Their  eyes  met  in  conflict.  He  understood  that  she 
wondered  why  he  did  not  bid  good-by  and  go,  and  she 
understood  that  he  meant  to  stay  and  give  no  reason. 

"  It  is  nearly  midnight,"  said  Nell,  looking  at  the 
clock.  "  I'm  so  sleepy." 

Mrs.  Frere  heard  what  the  girl  said  and  came  away 
from  the  window.  She  begged  her  daughters  to  go  to 
bed.  Nell  consented  to  do  so,  but  Hilary  said  that 
she  preferred  to  sit  up. 


98  tEbe  (Srassboppers. 


"Why  do  you  stay  ?  "  she  asked  Dick  a  few  minutes 
later,  when  they  were  left  to  themselves.  Nell  had 
gone  to  bed,  and  Mrs.  Frere  was  giving  some  final 
orders  to  the  servants.  Dick  looked  at  her. 

"  I'll  go,  if  you  like,"  he  said. 

"  Nonsense,  Dick  !  You  know  what  I  mean.  You 
stay  because  you  think  something  has  gone  wrong. 
What  do  you  fear  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you,"  said  Dick,  after  some  deliber- 
ation. "  Nothing.  I  saw  your  father  to-day,  and 
—  I  expect  he's  all  right.  He'll  be  here  in  a  minute, 
and  then  I'll  go." 

"I  have  sent  the  servants  to  bed,"  said  Mrs. 
Frere,  coming  back  into  the  room.  "  Your  father  is 
sure  to  have  dined." 

She  stood  still  on  the  threshold,  the  door  wide 
open,  her  hand  upraised  and  pointing  behind  her 
toward  the  hall. 

"  Listen  !     What  is  that  ?  "  she  cried. 

They  all  three  heard  a  slow,  dragging  step  come 
as  far  as  the  front  door,  and  then  shuffle  heavily 
away  again  out  of  the  garden  gate  and  down  the 
road. 

"  I'll  go  and  see,"  said  Dick. 

He  hurried  off,  shutting  the  front  door  after  him  ; 
but  the  two  women  opened  it,  and  stood  on  the  top  step 
listening  anxiously.  There  was  no  traffic  in  the  road 
at  this  late  hour,  and  the  rain  fell  quietly  now. 
Hilary  could  hear  Dick  overtake  the  man  who  had 
been  within  their  gates  a  moment  since  ;  she  could 
hear  two  voices,  and  then  two  persons  coming  slowly 
back.  She  ran  down  the  steps,  across  the  small  front 
garden  to  the  road.  Dick  had  just  arrived  at  the  near- 
est gas  lamp,  and  she  saw  that  it  was  her  father  cling- 
ing to  his  arm.  She  ran  on,  unmindful  of  the  rain, 
and  then  suddenly  stopped  short.  What  ailed  her 
father  ?  He  seemed  hardly  able  to  walk.  He  was 
drenched  with  rain  and  shivering  ;  his  face  looked 
white  and  wild  ;  his  eyes  met  hers  without  interest, 
almost  without  recognition. 


flews.  99 

"  What  has  happened  ? "  she  said,  under  her  breath, 
to  Dick. 

"  He  has  been  out  in  the  storm." 

Hilary  caught  her  father's  free  hand.  It  was  as 
cold  as  ice.  When  they  got  to  the  house  and  Mrs. 
Frere  saw  her  husband's  condition,  she  immediately 
showed  great  alarm. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Henry  ?  "  she  cried.  "  Come 
in  to  the  fire.  Was  it  you  who  came  to  the  door  just 
now  and  went  away  again  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Frere,  with  a  groan. 

He  let  Dick  take  off  his  dripping  greatcoat,  and 
then  he  followed  his  wife  into  the  library.  There  he 
sank  into  a  chair  and  stared  silently  at  the  fire,  rub- 
bing his  hands  all  the  while,  and  giving  little  shiver- 
ing sighs  that  terrified  his  wife.  She  stood  close  by 
and  looked  at  him  helplessly.  Dick  mixed  some 
strong  whisky  and  water,  and  steadied  the  glass  while 
Mr.  Frere  drank  it.  Hilary  wished  that  she  had 
thought  of  doing  that. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Frere,  when 
she  had  waited  some  time  in  vain  for  her  husband  to 
speak. 

His  haggard  eyes  turned  miserably  toward  his  wife. 
He  seemed  about  to  answer  her,  and  then,  as  if  the 
words  choked  him,  he  stopped  short  and  said  to 
Dick  :  "  Tell  them.  I  can't." 

Dick,  looking  greatly  troubled  and  perplexed,  sat 
down  near  his  old  friend. 

"  You  want  rest  and  sleep  now,"  he  said.  "  No 
need  for  any  explanations  to-night." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  there  is  !  only  I  don't  know  how  to  do 
it.  That's  why  I  stayed  away.  I  don't  know  how  to 
tell  them." 

"  Don't  keep  us  in  suspense,  Dick,"  said  Hilary, 
with  a  touch  of  indignation. 

"  Your  father  is  anxious  about  the  future,"  said  the 
young  man,  after  a  pause  that  showed  he  found  it 
difficult  to  begin.  He  looked  almost  relieved  when 
Mrs.  Frere  interrupted  him. 


<5ra0ebopper0. 

"  You'll  worry  yourself  into  your  grave,  if  you  don't 
take  care,  Henry,"  she  urged  affectionately.  "  How 
could  you  go  wandering  about  the  streets  in  the  rain 
when  you  knew  we  were  waiting  dinner  for  you  !  I 
can  see  by  your  boots  that  you  have  walked  for  miles 
through  the  mud.  Tell  us  what  is  the  matter,  and 
then  go  to  bed.  I  shan't  let  you  go  to  the  office  to- 
morrow ;  you  look  quite  ill.  I  suppose  Mr.  Theodore 
has  been  losing  your  money  again  ;  it  seems  all  he  can 
do  for  the  firm.  But  if  he  thinks  you  are  going  to  work 
yourself  to  death,  and  do  without  your  holiday " 

"  You're  wrong,"  said  Mr.  Frere  grimly.  "  He 
wants  me  to  have  the  holiday  and  not  the  work.  He 
has  told  me  so  to-day." 

"  How  nice  of  him  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Frere.  "  I 
should  never  have  given  him  credit  for  it.  Then 
what  are  you  worrying  about  ?  " 

Mr.  Frere  did  not  reply.  His  wife  looked  from 
him  to  her  daughter,  from  her  to  Dick.  She  caught 
the  alarm  in  their  faces  ;  she  felt  that  their  silence 
meant  no  good. 

"  What  is  it  ? "  she  said,  beginning  to  tremble. 

Dick  felt  driven  to  explain.  "  Mr.  Theodore  will 
not  renew  the  partnership,"  he  said.  "  He  means  to 
carry  on  the  business  by  himself." 

He  looked  at  the  ground  as  he  spoke,  but  he  felt 
Mrs.  Frere's  eyes  on  him,  and  he  knew  that  what  he 
said  only  reached  her  comprehension  by  degrees.  A 
heavy,  interminable  silence  followed  before  she  opened 
her  lips. 

"  I  always  knew  he  was  a  scoundrel,"  she  said 
slowly.  Then  she  leaned  over  her  husband,  and  the 
tears  gathered  in  her  loving,  faded  eyes. 

"  Henry  !  "  she  whispered.  "  Never  mind,  old 
heart.  We'll  get  on  somehow." 

Dick  had  gone  to  the  window,  and  turned  his 
back  on  his  friends.  Hilary  had  gone  close  to  her 
father. 

"  I  could  not  come  home  and  tell  you,"  said  Mr. 
Frere.  "  I  cannot  bear  it.  You  will  starve." 


Hews.  ioi 

"  What  did  he  say  to  you  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Frere. 
"  Did  you  remind  him  that  you  made  the  business  ?  I 
hope  you  told  him  what  you  thought  of  him." 

"  No,"  said  her  husband  ;  "  I  asked  him  to  keep 
me  on  at  a  fixed  salary." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  Hilary,  and  then  stopped  herself. 
She  looked  at  her  father,  and  understood  in  a  dim 
way  that  he  had  fallen  on  his  knees  before  his  enemy 
to  beg  for  his  children's  bread.  He  had  begged  in 
vain,  and  his  failure  had  broken  him. 

"  But  you  are  so  clever,  Henry,"  began  his  wife. 
"  You  can  easily  begin  a  new  business,  or  else  some- 
one will  give  you  a  thousand  a  year  to  manage  theirs. 
We  could  not  live  on  in  this  house,  and  we  have  the 
lease  for  another  three  years,  but " 

"  Is  it  possible  that  even  now  you  don't  under- 
stand ? "  said  Mr.  Frere,  pressing  his  hands  to  his 
temples  with  an  air  of  desperation.  "  We  are  ruined — 
ruined  !  If  I  get  a  clerkship,  I  shall  be  lucky.  My 
health  has  gone.  I  am  old.  Everything  is  over — for 
me." 

He  got  up  and  looked  tenderly  at  his  wife.  "We 
have  been  married  twenty-one  years,"  he  said,  "  and 
every  day  has  brought  us  nearer  to  this." 

"  We  have  been  very  happy  for  twenty-one  years," 
said  Mrs.  Frere  stanchly. 

"  I  wanted  to  see  them  again,"  continued  her  hus- 
band. He  addressed  Dick,  and  then  glanced  at  his 
wife  and  daughter.  His  tone  was  almost  apologetic, 
but  his  eyes  were  dazed,  and  he  turned  silent  and 
troubled,  like  a  man  in  a  fever,  who  thinks  he  has 
spoken  a  secret  thought  aloud.  Dick  felt  sure  that 
his  old  friend  had  wandered  hither  and  thither  that 
night  with  the  thought  of  suicide  in  his  mind. 

"  You  must  rest  now,"  urged  the  young  man. 
"  Let  me  help  you  upstairs." 

Mrs.  Frere  followed  them.  Hilary  sat  down  by  the 
fire.  Presently  Dick  returned  and  sat  down  beside  her. 

"  What  will  happen  ? "  said  the  girl,  looking  at  him 
with  desolate  eyes. 


<5rasgbopper0. 

"  Don't  think  about  it  to-night,"  he  answered 
gently.  "  You  can  do  nothing,  you  know." 

"  I  know,"  said  Hilary.  "  I  can  do  nothing.  I  am 
only  a  girl." 

Dick  looked  at  her  rather  wistfully,  but  her  eyes 
did  not  meet  his.  She  was  staring  into  the  fire. 

"  I  don't  see  what  you  could  do,  if  you  were  a  man," 
he  said,  after  a  time,  "unless,  of  course,  you  had 
money." 

"  A  man  can  always  make  money.  A  thousand 
ways  are  open  to  him,  if  he  has  strength  and  sense." 

"  Not  at  an  hour's  notice.  Not  without  a  struggle. 
I  have  worked  hard  for  ten  years,  and  I  am  only  just 
beginning  to  see  my  way." 

"  But  you  can  never  have  felt  quite  helpless — as  I 
do  now.  I  feel  like  a  rat  in  a  trap.  There  is  no 
escape.  You  say  yourself  there  is  nothing  to  be 
done.  We  shall  have  to  bear  it.  Suppose  father  gets 
no  work  next  year  ?  He  has  often  told  us  of  men 
who  lost  a  berth,  and  could  not  get  another.  He  used 
to  help  them.  They  were  glad  to  borrow  a  sovereign  ; 
they  had  wives  and  children  who  were  starving  at 
home.  Shall  we  starve  ?  Oh  !  how  can  it  be  pos- 
sible? Surely  I  have  wits  enough,  and  strength 
enough  to  earn  my  bread  ?  " 

"You  are  looking  too  far  forward,"  said  Dick. 
"  Your  father  will  probably  find  something  to  do. 
He  is  a  very  clever  man  of  business." 

"  But  he  looks  so  ill." 

"  It  is  no  joke  for  a  man  to  have  to  tell  his  wife 
and  children  what  he  has  told  you  to-night.  Can  you 
imagine  what  it  cost  him  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  he  has  known  for  a  long  time  ?" 

"  He  has  feared  it  for  a  long  time." 

"Mamma  always  said  things  would  come  right." 

"  They  might  have  done,"  said  Dick. 

Hilary  thought  she  understood  how.  If  Arthur 
Preston  had  declared  himself,  if  she  had  accepted 
Herr  Hansen  or  Dick,  her  father's  affairs  would  not 
have  been  desperate.  With  his  two  children  married 


JBafc  flews.  103 

to  prosperous  men,  he  could  have  held  his  head  up  as 
he  walked  out  of  his  old  business,  and  looked  leisurely 
for  some  post  big  enough  to  support  himself  and  his 
wife.  It  need  not  have  been  very  big. 

She  looked  at  Dick,  and  tried  to  speak,  but  her 
heart  began  to  beat  so  wildly  that  she  could  not  say  a 
word.  She  looked  away  from  him  and  waited,  won- 
dering, in  the  silence  that  ensued,  whether  he  saw  any 
signs  of  the  commotion  that  shook  her.  He  did  not 
come  to  her  aid. 

"Dick!"  she  said  quite  suddenly;  "let  us  help 
him.  I  would  do  anything  to  help  him." 

She  waited  one  breathless  moment  for  his  reply, 
stared  at  him  as  if  he  had  dealt  her  the  most  cruel 
blow,  and  turned  ashen  white.  He  thought  she  was 
going  to  faint,  and  put  out  his  hands  toward  her,  but 
she  shivered  away  from  him  and  lay  back  in  her  chair 
with  closed  eyes.  How  was  this  moment  ever  to  be 
wiped  out  ? 

Dick  had  dimly  understood.  He  had  even  looked 
at  her  with  sudden  hope,  but  by  that  time  her  eyes 
were  averted,  her  face  had  changed  from  white  to 
flaming  red.  She  did  not  see  the  hope  rise  and  die 
away  again  as  he  watched  her  ;  she  only  felt  that  his 
silence  thrust  her  from  him,  and  that  while  it  lasted 
she  was  consumed  by  shame.  Every  moment  seemed 
to  carry  her  further  from  her  old,  familiar  friend.  It 
was,  after  all,  a  strange  young  man  sitting  at  her 
elbow.  She  had  offered  herself  to  him,  and  he  had 
not  responded.  The  tension  became  unbearable. 
She  got  up.  As  she  did  so  Mrs.  Frere  threw  the  door 
open  and  appeared  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold  of 
the  room.  She  could  hardly  speak.  She  beckoned 
Hilary  to  go  with  her,  and  she  said  to  Dick  in  a  dry, 
choking  voice  :  "  A  doctor  !  He  is  dying.  He  is 
dead." 

Dick  flew.  Hilary  ran  upstairs  to  the  door  of  her 
father's  room,  and  then  stood  still  outside  it,  listening 
fearfully.  She  heard  him  breathe,  and  went  in.  He 
lay  on  his  bed  insensible,  with  glazed,  unseeing  eyes. 


104  Gbe  <5ras0bopper0. 

His  wife  came  back  and  began  to  cry  bitterly  as  she 
hung  over  him.  The  sound  of  her  sobs  seemed  not 
to  reach  him  ;  at  any  rate  he  gave  no  sign.  Hilary 
stood  beside  the  bed  and  wondered  whether  this  was 
death.  The  rain  pattered  against  the  window,  the 
room  looked  just  as  it  had  done  since  she  had  known 
it,  but  every  breath  her  father  drew  sounded  more 
terrible  than  the  last.  Every  moment  deepened  her 
conviction  that  he  was  bidding  good-by  to  life  and 
to  them.  It  was  a  hundred  years  since  yesterday, 
when  the  future  had  looked  so  fair.  So  suddenly  do 
the  Furies  enter  a  household,  and  where  they  enter 
they  love  to  stay. 


CHAPTER  X 

REALITIES 

No  one  of  ordinary  intelligence  will  refuse  to  admit 
that  he  is  mortal ;  and  yet  a  great  many  people 
behave  as  if  their  life  in  this  world  would  probably  be 
everlasting.  Men  cherish  the  most  lively  affection 
for  their  wives  and  children,  and  die  with  their  affairs 
in  unpardonable  confusion  ;  women  urge  their  hus- 
bands to  spend  an  income  considerably  larger  than 
the  capital  that  would  be  at  their  disposal  if  he  died 
to-morrow,  and  no  one  offers  to  lock  these  lunatics 
in  asylums,  although  the  harm  they  do  to  themselves 
and  others  is  deeper,  more  lasting,  and  more  various 
than  the  worst  that  could  be  wreaked  by  many  a  poor 
creature  living  under  his  keeper's  eye.  But  it  is  not 
necessary  to  have  a  wide  or  a  profound  knowledge  of 
human  nature  to  understand  that  fools  are  as  common 
as  sinners  ;  and,  indeed,  the  admission  of  folly  is 
best  made,  like  the  confession  of  sin,  on  Sundays,  in 
a  chorus  from  which  no  man's  voice  is  absent. 

Of  course,  there  are  people  who  think  they  invari- 
ably act  with  wisdom,  but  they  are  in  an  unamiable 
minority,  and  need  not  be  taken  into  account.  Most 
of  us  have  grace  enough  to  blush  at  some  memories. 
However,  there  is  no  doubt  that  a  man's  taste  in 
follies,  as  in  dress  and  furniture,  may  differ  impor- 
tantly from  his  neighbor's.  You  condemn  what  your 
friend  condones,  and  what  you  smile  at  he  refuses  to 
endure.  The  girl  you  perceive  to  be  a  mere  millinery 
peg  he  endows  with  angel's  wings,  and  marries  ;  but 
he  cannot  understand  your  trick  of  fetching  your 
guests  from  the  byways.  And  the  most  curious  part 
of  the  matter  is,  that  the  millinery  peg  suits  him,  and 

105 


106  tTbe  (Sragsboppers. 


the  blatherskite  you,  for  the  term  of  your  natural 
lives.  It  was  truly  a  merciful  fate  that  made  men  as 
various  in  their  likes  and  dislikes  as  they  are  in  their 
fortunes. 

To  some  minds  it  seems  impossible  that  grown-up 
people  should  live  without  any  care  for  the  morrow  — 
that  a  man  should  love  his  wife  and  children  de- 
votedly, and  yet  leave  them  without  daily  bread.  It 
seems  impossible,  even  while  one's  eyes  are  fixed  in 
wondering  amazement  on  people  who  lead  irresponsi- 
ble, spendthrift  lives  ;  it  is  so  difficult  to  believe  that  a 
human  being  can  play  the  butterfly  with  such  satisfac- 
tion to  himself.  Of  course,  the  difficulty  is  made  by 
one's  own  unsympathetic  mind,  and  does  not  depend 
on  the  rarity  or  the  uncertainty  of  the  facts.  In  the 
human  world  butterflies  are  exceeding  plentiful. 
Very  often  they  lead  a  gorgeous,  untroubled  life  ; 
whether  they  flourish  to  the  last  depends  on  the 
weather  encountered  by  the  way.  There  is  no  doubt 
'that  the  poor,  pretty  creatures  sometimes  find  them- 
selves in  cruel  circumstances.  "  Winter  !  "  they  have 
always  cried.  "  Don't  talk  of  it  —  don't  think  of  it  ! 
We  do  not  believe  it  exists.  The  days  are  warm  and 
long,  and,  like  sensible  creatures,  we  enjoy  them. 
What  do  you  say  about  providing  for  bad  weather  ? 
We  have  no  time  to  listen  or  understand.  All  the 
flowers  in  the  garden  are  waiting  for  us.  We  love 
their  colors  and  their  perfume.  Look  at  our  own 
colors,  how  they  embellish  the  summer  day."  So 
they  flit  gayly  past  you,  and  you  watch  and  wait  un- 
easily. Then  autumn  comes,  and  they  shiver  ;  winter, 
and  they  die.  And  I  have  never  found  that  the 
spectacle  of  their  sufferings  is  made  less  painful  by 
the  reflection  that  they  have  brought  it  all  on  them- 
selves. To  the  victims  it  assuredly  brings  no  relief. 
Besides,  they  deny  the  impeachment  with  indignation. 

Mrs.  Frere  had  certainly  helped  to  bring  misfor- 
tunes on  the  children  and  herself.  The  argument 
that  her  husband  need  not  have  permitted  her  to  do 
so  will  occur  to  bachelors  of  both  sexes.  To  married 


•Realttfea.  107 

folk  its  hollowness  will  be  plain.  Men  who  love  their 
wives  are  so  much  in  their  hands  for  bad  or  good. 
"  As  the  husband  is,  the  wife  is  !  "  But  a  man  wrote 
that.  Moreover,  the  young  man  from  whose  lips  the 
saying  issued  was  not  married,  nor  were  his  thoughts 
taken  up  with  housekeeping  expenses.  He  was  quite 
in  a  state  of  mind  to  deny  their  importance. 

Perhaps  you  imagine  that  Mrs.  Frere  looked  back 
with  repentance,  and  resigned  herself  to  the  fruits  of 
her  folly.  If  so,  you  give  her  credit  for  a  reasonable- 
ness of  which  she  has  hitherto  shown  no  sign.  People 
who  do  not  expect  both  to  eat  and  to  have  their  cake 
are  rare.  Mrs.  Frere  would  not  recognize  that  she 
had  nibbled  with  fatal  destructiveness  at  hers.  She 
said  it  was  iniquitous  if  the  widow  of  a  man  who  had 
worked  as  hard  and  as  well  as  Mr.  Frere  was  not  left 
well  provided  for.  I  think  she  was  right.  Only  most 
of  the  iniquity  happened  to  be  hers. 

At  first  she  had  only  glanced  with  a  foreboding 
shudder  at  the  troubles  ahead.  As  long  as  her  hus- 
band lay  there,  still  with  some  breath  of  life  in  him, 
she  could  not  believe  that  he  would  die.  Her 
strength  spent  itself  in  watching  by  him,  her  thoughts 
drifted  back  to  a  past  that  led  through  such  dear 
days  to  this  intolerable  end.  She  did  not  know  how 
to  let  him  go,  how  to  stay  stricken  and  desolate 
behind.  When  she  saw  the  change  in  his  face  she 
stooped  and  whispered  in  his  unconscious  ears  that 
she  was  with  him  ;  and  then,  in  a  moment,  as  she 
kissed  him,  he  was  gone.  She  had  no  time,  and 
hardly  the  wish,  to  call  the  children.  He  died  at 
dawn,  when  they  were  both  out  of  the  room.  She  sat 
by  him,  his  hand  growing  cold  in  hers.  Her  thoughts 
traveled  to  and  fro.  It  seemed  such  a  little  while 
since  the  first  time  she  had  seen  him.  It  was  the 
coming  day  that  looked  long. 

But,  of  course,  the  sun  never  sets  on  a  day  that  has 
not  broken  more  hearts  than  one  ;  and  in  the  case  of 
a  woman  who  has  been  as  silly  as  Mrs.  Frere  most 
people  are  inclined  to  forget  her  grief  and  consider 


io8 

her  reverses.  The  girls  wept  with  her.  Dick  Lori- 
mer  took  the  management  of  the  funeral  off  her 
hands.  For  a  few  days  the  three  stricken  women 
were  allowed  to  mourn  unmolested,  as  if  the  loss  of 
husband  and  father  was  the  only  trouble  that  had 
befallen  them.  But  Mrs.  Frere's  widowhood  was 
hardly  a  week  old  when  the  whole  bitterness  of  her 
position  was  made  properly  clear  to  her  by  Mr. 
Harrison,  her  husband's  solicitor.  He  called  on  her 
the  day  after  the  funeral,  and,  of  course,  he  began  with 
one  or  two  conventional  expressions  of  condolence. 
It  soon  became  evident,  however,  that  the  grief  that 
had  worn  Mrs.  Frere  white  and  wan  already  was,  in 
his  opinion,  less  important  than  the  financial  ruin  in 
which  she  was  deservedly  involved.  The  fact  is,  Mr. 
Theodore  had  prepared  him  to  encounter  three  silly, 
unreasonable  women,  and  had  urged  him  to  hammer 
out  the  truth.  Mr.  Harrison  was  also  solicitor  to  the 
firm,  and  had  its  interests  truly  at  heart.  Mr.  Theo- 
dore and  the  firm  were  now,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, one. 

"  You  have  always  spent  every  penny  your  late 
husband  made,"  he  was  soon  saying.  "  Last  year 
you  spent  more.  Mr.  Frere  was  in  debt  to  the  firm. 
The  business  has  been  crippled  for  want  of  funds." 

"  It  will  be  crippled  now  for  want  of  brains," 
retorted  Mrs.  Frere. 

Mr.  Harrison  paused,  as  if  to  wait  for  an  unmean- 
ing but  troublesome  noise  to  pass  away,  then  he 
continued  : 

"  On  your  husband's  business  you  have  no  claim. 
There  would  be  absolutely  no  provision  for  you  if, 
two  years  ago,  I  had  not  luckily  persuaded  Mr.  Frere 
to  insure  his  life  for  a  thousand  pounds.  By  his  will, 
made  at  the  birth  of  his  first  child,  his  property  is  in 
trust  for  the  children,  and  can  only  be  touched  in 
case  of  their  marriage.  The  furniture,  plate,  and 
linen  are  yours,  and  will,  of  course,  sell  for  something." 

Mr.  Harrison  cast  an  appraising  glance  round  the 
morning  room. 


•Realities.  i°9 

"  You  must  not  expect  much,"  he  said.  "  People 
will  hardly  buy  old  furniture  nowadays." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  my  husband  had  no 
money  in  the  business  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Frere.  She 
drew  closer  to  the  fire  as  she  spoke.  The  room  in 
that  wet,  gloomy  weather  always  felt  chilly. 

"  Nothing  worth  speaking  of.  A  little  over  two 
hundred,  perhaps.  Your  debts  will  probably  amount 
to  that." 

"  We  have  no  debts,"  said  Hilary.  "  Have  we, 
mamma  ? " 

"  There  are  the  tradesmen's  bills.  Every  family 
has  tradesmen's  bills.  They  do  not  like  ready 
money.  But  what  are  we  to  live  on,  Mr.  Harrison  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  gone  into  the  accounts  yet,  but  I  should 
think  there  will  be  nearly  fifty  pounds  a  year  for  you," 
said  Mr.  Harrison,  getting  up  to  go. 

Mrs.  Frere  burst  into  tears.  The  lawyer  pretended 
not  to  see,  and  walked  to  the  door, — a  crying  woman 
is  even  worse  company  than  an  angry  one, — but  Hilary 
stopped  him. 

"  Who  are  my  father's  executors  ? "  she  asked. 

"  Mr.  Theodore  and  myself." 

"  Mr.  Theodore  !  "  echoed  Mrs.  Frere  in  surprise. 

"  Bless  me,"  said  Mr.  Harrison,  turning  round 
again,  "didn't  you  know?  Did  your  husband  tell 
you  nothing  ? " 

44 1  dare  say  he  did,  but  I  never  wished  to  hear 
about  such  things.  I  never  have  worried  about  the 
future.  God  alone  knows  what  will  happen." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Harrison,  "for  my  part  I  knew 
pretty  well  what  would  happen,  two  years  ago,  when 
your  husband  told  me  the  state  of  his  affairs.  The 
poor  man  was  breaking  his  heart  over  them  then." 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Frere  again. 
She  looked  terrified,  dazed,  appealing.  Mr.  Harrison 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"There  are  thousands  of  families  in  England  who 
live  on  a  pound  a  week,"  he  said,  and  then  he  got 
away.  It  is  always  irritating  to  observe  that  people 


no  £be  (Srassbopperg. 

who  have  brought  trouble  on  themselves  still  hope  for 
help  and  sympathy.  Everyone  ought  to  lie  uncom- 
plainingly on  the  bed  he  has  made  for  himself.  Mrs. 
Frere  certainly  could  not  expect  much  sympathy  from 
anyone  who  knew  how  foolish  she  had  been.  Of 
course,  the  girls  would  tumble  into  the  gutter  with 
her,  and  that  seemed  a  pity  :  but  they  probably  took 
after  their  mother  in  vanity  and  feebleness.  At  any 
rate,  children  must  suffer  for  the  sins  of  their  parents. 
No  one  but  a  latter-day  unbeliever  would  object  to 
that  law  as  unjust,  and  even  he  would  admit  that  it  is, 
at  any  rate,  in  complete  and  plentiful  exercise.  His 
creed  and  his  profession  both  helped  to  harden  Mr. 
Harrison's  heart. 

For  some  time  after  he  had  gone  the  three  women 
sat  together  and  scarcely  spoke.  The  girls  had  lis- 
tened in  dry-eyed  silence.  Every  word  the  man 
uttered  wrung  youth  and  hope  out  of  them.  They 
felt  scared  at  being  alive.  What  could  they  do  with 
life  ?  how  support  it  ?  how  satisfy  its  imperious 
demands  ?  A  pound  a  week  for  the  three  !  A  month 
ago  Arthur  had  asked  Nell  if  a  young  couple  could 
begin  with  five  hundred  a  year,  and  she  had  looked 
very  wise  and  said  they  might,  perhaps,  if  they  lived 
in  a  cottage,  and  were  very  careful  with  coals  and 
bread.  Hilary  had  spent  a  pound  a  week  on  odds 
and  ends.  She  had  never  managed  to  pay  her  dress- 
maker's bills  out  of  that  allowance.  What  were  they 
to  do  ?  Should  they  hire  a  laborer's  cottage  and  live 
in  it  ?  Thoreau  did  not  spend  a  pound  a  week  at 
Walden  ;  and  how  often,  in  the  midst  of  some  dull, 
pompous  dinner-party,  Hilary's  thoughts  had  flown  to 
that  pleasant  hut,  with  the  scent  of  bean  flowers  com- 
ing in  at  the  door,  and  the  whippoorwills  singing  on 
the  stump  outside.  She  saw  the  deep  pond  in  the  for- 
est ;  she  saw  the  spreading  pine,  the  red  squirrel,  the 
woodcock  with  her  young,  and  the  turtle-doves  at  play. 

"  We  must  find  a  cottage,"  she  said.  "  The  rent 
must  not  exceed  half  a  crown  a  week.  There  will  be 
seventeen  and  six  left  for  other  things." 


"Realities.  1 1 1 

But  Hilary  got  no  further.  Mrs.  Frere  and  Nell 
stared  at  her  as  if  they  feared  she  was  demented,  and 
she  perceived  the  impossibility  of  even  attempting 
such  a  life  with  them.  Indeed,  as  she  looked  it  in 
the  face,  its  charm  vanished  and  left  a  thousand  hard- 
ships behind.  How  could  a  few  shillings  supply 
three  of  them  with  food,  warmth,  and  clothing  ? 
Where  would  help  and  medicine  come  from  when 
they  were  ill  ;  wine  for  her  mother,  or  such  costly 
necessaries  as  boots,  clean  linen,  meat,  and  fires  ? 
She  stretched  out  her  hands  and  wondered  whether 
they  would  ever  accomplish  the  family  washing.  Her 
heart  sank  as  she  thought  of  it.  She  had  less  muscu- 
lar strength  than  most  girls  of  her  generation.  In  a 
few  minutes,  after  considering  one  or  two  of  the 
uppermost  details,  Hilary  came  back  to  the  plan  that 
was,  of  course,  the  obvious,  commonplace  one — Nell 
and  she  must  teach. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  we  must  teach.  I  don't  know 
what,  and  I  don't  know  whom,  but  that  is  evidently 
our  career,  unless  I  take  to  cooking  ;  but  that  requires 
training  and  skill.  I  have  neither  time  nor  money  to 
spare,  so  I  will  teach.  In  England  there  are  many 
people  who  suppose  that  teaching,  like  reading  and 
writing,  comes  by  nature.  I  will  persuade  some  nice 
Mrs.  Dogberry  to  engage  me.  You  must  find  Mrs. 
Verges,  Nell.  We  will  send  mamma  our  money. 
What  am  I  worth  ?  Shall  I  only  get  a  comfortable 
home  in  a  Christian  family  at  first,  or  will  someone 
give  me  twelve  pounds  ?  Oh,  mamma  !  what  can  you 
not  do  with  twelve  pounds  a  year  ? " 

The  girl  tried  to  laugh,  but  her  mirth  was  not  con- 
vincing, and  she  found  that  Mrs.  Frere  would  not 
listen  to  her  plans.  Part  from  her  girls  as  well  as 
from  her  husband  ?  Hilary  might  as  well  suggest 
that  she  should  part  from  her  heart  or  her  head.  Her 
very  life  hung  on  them.  Let  her  children  go  out 
among  strangers  and  waste  their  strength  in  stuffy 
schoolrooms — expose  themselves  to  slights  and  snubs — 
grow  old  before  their  time,  and  weary  while  they  were 


"2  Cbe  (Srassboppers. 

still  young — she  had  not  educated  them  for  such  an 
existence  as  that!  Hilary  could  not  help  reflecting 
that  this  was  true  in  more  senses  than  one.  Nell,  in 
spite  of  her  little  accomplishments,  was  an  ignorant 
puss ;  and  she  herself  had  frittered  away  her  time  in 
the  desultory  fashion  that  comes  so  easy  to  us  all. 

"  But  what  are  we  to  do  ? "  she  said  at  last. 
"  Here  we  sit,  three  live  healthy  women,  hungry 
three  times  a  day,  cold  three  parts  of  the  year,  want- 
ing clothes  to  cover  us.  We  can't  help  being  alive, 
and  life  means  needs.  How  are  we  to  supply 
them?" 

"  Do  thousands  of  families  live  on  a  pound  a  week  ? " 
asked  Nell,  who  knew  as  little  about  money  as  most 
girls  of  her  age  and  position. 

"  Mrs.  Theodore  will  be  glad,"  cried  Mrs.  Frere. 
"  She  will  say  it  serves  us  right,  even  if  we  die  of 
starvation.  And  Henry  will  not  know — ah  !  if  he 
knew — my  husband — my  husband  !  " 

"  She  will  not  be  glad,"  said  Hilary.  "  She  will 
simply  not  think  of  us  at  all.  We  shall  belong  to  the 
disagreeable  subjects  that  she  likes  to  keep  out  of  her 
mind.  She  will  do  what  is  pretty  and  proper  in  the 
way  of  a  civil  note  and  an  occasional  invitation,  and 
beyond  that  we  may  all  go  to  the  devil  for  anything 
she  cares." 

She  reflected  a  moment,  and  then  added  less  bit- 
terly: "  And  you  can't  blame  her  either.  Why  should 
she  trouble  about  us  ? " 

Nell  had  got  up  and  was  standing  before  a  silver- 
framed  mirror,  examining  her  pretty  image  in  the 
glass. 

"  Am  I  a  disagreeable  subject  ? "  she  said,  with 
whimsical  melancholy.  "  I  don't  look  it,  do  I, 
Hilary  ? " 

Hilary,  who  had  risen  some  time  before,  approached 
her  sister  and  looked  over  her  shoulder.  Their 
mother,  from  where  she  sat,  could  see  both  the  girls 
and  their  reflection.  She  could  not  imagine  anything 
prettier,  but  she  could  not  imagine  them  torn  from 


•Realities,  "3 

the  surroundings  in  which  their  loveliness  had  ripened. 
She  began  to  cry  again. 

The  first  person  who  brought  hope  and  comfort  to 
them  that  day  was  Dick.  He  came  straight  from  the 
City,  and  for  once  helped  Mrs.  Frere  through  the  hour 
that  as  long  as  she  lived  was  a  heavy  one.  All  day 
she  had  been  used  to  miss  her  husband,  but  between 
five  and  six  she  had  listened  for  his  key  in  the  latch. 
She  used  to  listen  now  and  start  at  a  chance  sound. 
Dick  brought  his  friends  a  basket  of  peaches,  and  the 
little  gift  stirred  them  in  away  he  could  hardly  under- 
stand. The  City  keeps  up  a  pretty  fashion  of  sending 
little  luxuries  by  the  hands  of  its  workers  to  the  women 
folk  at  home.  Now  that  the  father  and  husband  was 
dead  the  Freres  had  not  supposed  that  anyone  would 
come  in  at  eventide,  bringing  fruit  and  flowers.  There 
were  early  chrysanthemums  as  well  as  peaches  in 
Dick's  hands.  He  sat  down  as  if  he  meant  to  stay 
some  time,  and  listened  attentively  to  Mrs.  Frere's 
account  of  the  lawyer's  visit. 

"  You  have  not  seen  Mr.  Theodore  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  ;  "  I  hope  I  shall  never  see 
him  again.  I  consider  that  he  murdered  my  husband. 
The  worst  villains  of  all  never  get  within  sight  of  the 
gallows." 

Dick  had  seen  Mr.  Theodore  the  day  after  Mr. 
Frere's  death.  He  had  called  at  the  office,  by  appoint- 
ment, late  in  the  afternoon.  A  memorandum  had  been 
found  relating  to  the  two  thousand  pounds  paid  for 
Fagin's  Trust  Shares.  Mr.  Theodore  professed  great 
indignation  at  discovering  that  his  penniless  partner 
had  speculated  on  the  Stock  Exchange.  Dick  said 
he  had  been  greatly  grieved  to  hear  of  it  too — as 
the  speculation  had  turned  out  a  rotten  one.  Mr. 
Theodore  explained  that  even  with  the  help  of  the 
life  insurance,  and  after  the  sale  of  his  household 
goods,  the  property  left  by  the  deceased  would  not 
amount  to  anything  like  two  thousand  pounds.  There 
was  a  considerable  business  debt,  and  probably  a 
large  number  of  private  ones  When  these  were  met 


H4  tlbe  (Brassboppers. 

there  might  be  rather  more  than  a  thousand  pounds 
left,  which  the  issuer  of  the  bill  could,  of  course, 
claim.  For  the  rest  of  the  borrowed  money  Dick 
would  unfortunately  be  responsible. 

Dick  asked  what  would  become  of  Mrs.  Frere  and 
her  daughters,  in  case  every  penny  they  possessed  was 
taken  from  them.  Mr.  Theodore  said  he  had  no 
idea.  He  confessed  that  the  question  did  not  greatly 
interest  him.  He  had  a  keen  sense  of  justice,  and  in 
his  opinion  people  who  could  not  help  themselves 
were  not  worthy  of  help.  No  man  can  do  more  than 
a  little  for  some  of  his  neighbors,  and  Mr.  Theodore 
preferred  to  spend  his  surplus  on  deserving  objects. 
Could  he  sit  still  and  see  those  ladies  driven  into  a 
workhouse  ?  Well,  he  had  read  only  the  other  day 
that  workhouse  life  was  most  healthy.  Besides,  in 
these  days,  when  so  many  careers  are  open  to  women, 
why  should  there  be  any  question  of  lazy  subsistence 
on  the  public  purse  ?  Why  should  Mrs.  Frere  and 
her  children  not  earn  their  living  as  thousands  of 
women,  equally  spoiled,  have  had  to  do  ?  He  would 
advise  them  to  take  situations  at  once,  and  not  spend 
an  unnecessary  day  in  the  house  that  was  actually 
being  supported  at  Mr.  Lorimer's  cost. 

Dick  did  not  lose  his  temper  at  once.  He  used 
every  device  he  could  think  of  to  squeeze  a  promise 
of  help  out  of  Mr.  Theodore,  to  make  him  do 
something  for  his  late  partner's  widow  and  children. 
It  was  of  no  avail.  The  two  men  had  never  liked 
each  other,  and  their  old  animosity  seemed  to  find 
fuel  at  every  stage  of  the  discussion.  They  parted 
on  worse  terms  than  ever.  Dick  declared  that  he 
would  meet  the  bill  he  had  backed  and  not  wring  a 
penny  toward  it  out  of  the  three  women  on  the 
brink  of  destitution.  Mr.  Theodore  commended 
his  generosity,  with  a  sneer  that  made  Dick  burn 
to  hit  out  at  him.  With  a  somewhat  cavalier  air 
he  forbade  Mr.  Theodore  to  mention  the  matter  to 
anyone  concerned,  and  he  marched  out  of  the  office 
in  a  tearing  rage,  feeling  more  like  an  ass  than  a 


•Realities.  "S 

hero.  He  had  interfered  and  failed.  He  wished 
he  had  never  said  a  word,  never  gone  near  the  place. 
He  had  done  more  harm  than  good  ;  set  Theodore's 
back  up,  and  driven  him  to  swear  he  would  do 
nothing  for  those  poor  women.  It  was  an  oath  the 
man  would  be  glad  to  keep,  too.  Dick  wondered 
what  on  earth  would  become  of  them.  He  him- 
self felt  powerless,  paralyzed  by  this  coming  loss  of 
two  thousand  pounds.  He  could  not  think  of  mar- 
riage now.  It  would  be  all  he  could  do  to  carry  on 
his  business  and  live. 

Dick  asked  Mrs.  Frere  whether  she  had  seen  Mr. 
Theodore,  because  it  was,  of  course,  just  possible 
that  the  rich  man  had  softened  his  heart  and  made 
some  sign.  His  wife  might  have  prevailed  with  him 
where  Dick  had  been  defeated  ;  or  he  might  still 
turn  out  to  have  more  bark  than  bite.  This  is  a 
world  of  surprises ;  but  Dick  would  have  been  sur- 
prised out  of  measure  if  such  a  piece  of  news  had 
greeted  him.  As  it  was,  he  felt  that  he  had  known 
all  along  how  foolish  it  would  be  to  cherish  the 
faintest  hope. 

While  they  were  sitting  together  a  maid  came  in 
with  several  letters,  which  she  handed  to  her  mistress. 
One  of  them  bore  a  German  postmark,  and  Mrs. 
Frere  opened  it  first.  She  scanned  it  hurriedly,  ut- 
tered several  mysterious  exclamations  of  surprise  and 
pleasure,  and  then  turned  to  her  daughters,  the  thin, 
finely  written  sheet  of  paper  fluttering  in  her  hands. 

"  It  is  from  your  Aunt  Bertha,"  she  explained. 
"  She  says  she  will  take  us  all.  You  see  my  brother 
left  her  pretty  well  off,  though  she  says  she  is  poor, 
and  in  Germany  room  is  not  an  object.  Besides, 
the  closer  we  three  can  keep  together,  the  better 
pleased  I  shall  be  ;  and  don't  say  you  cannot  live  in 
Germany  before  you  have  tried.  You  have  no  idea 
how  delightful  Hamburg  is.  Instead  of  taking  an 
omnibus  to  get  across  the  town,  you  take  a  steamer, 
you  know.  Aunt  Bertha  says  her  house  is  almost  in 
a  wood.  You  remember  Aunt  Bertha,  dears  ? " 


(Brassboppers. 

"Not  very  well,"  said  Hilary.  "Isn't  she  rather 
queer?" 

"  Who  is  she  ? "  asked  Dick.  "  I  have  never  even 
heard  of  her." 

"  Oh,  yes,  Dick  ;  you  have.  She  is  the  widow  of 
mamma's  only  brother.  They  lived  in  Peru.  They 
stayed  with  us  on  their  way  back,  five  years  ago.  I 
don't  remember  much  about  her  excepting  that  she 
was  a  curiously  silent  person.  She  would  sit  right 
through  dinner  and  never  open  her  mouth.  Father 
said  she  gave  him  the  blues." 

"  Here  is  her  photograph,"  said  Nell,  who  had 
fetched  an  album,  and  turned  over  its  pages  until  she 
found  what  she  wanted. 

They  all  bent  over  it  with  newly  awakened  interest. 

"  I  should  stay  in  England,"  said  Dick,  after  a 
prolonged  and  silent  inspection. 

"  But  we  can  keep  together  if  we  accept  this  in- 
vitation," said  Mrs.  Frere.  "It  seems  sent  from 
heaven." 

Dick  glanced  at  Aunt  Bertha's  photograph  again. 

"What  can  we  do  ?  "  cried  Hilary.  "  Mr.  Harrison 
says  we  had  better  leave  this  house  to-day  than 
to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  him  !  "  said  Dick. 

"But  he  is  right.  Every  day  here  costs  pounds. 
You  do  not  understand  yet.  For  each  of  us,  in 
future,  there  is  not  quite  a  shilling  a  day.  Do  you 
know  what  a  leg  of  mutton  costs  ?  I  don't ;  but 
I  have  heard  that  it  is  a  good  deal.  We  want  a  roof 
to  our  heads,  and  fire,  and  light.  If  we  go  to  Aunt 
Bertha,  we  shall  have  breathing  time.  I  can  work  at 
German,  and  get  a  good  situation  later  on.  What 
can  we  do  here?  We  can't  go  about  with  a  barrel 
organ  or  sweep  a  crossing.  If  we  tried  to  stand  in  a 
shop  twelve  hours  a  day  we  should  be  in  a  hospital  in 
a  month.  We  might  let  lodgings,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Dick  rudely.  "  You  would  not 
make  a  penny.  You  are  not  used  to  haggle  and 
pilfer." 


•Realities.  "7 

"We  are  not  used  to  live  on  a  shilling  a  day,"  said 
Nell.  "  I  should  think  it  wants  practice." 

Dick  fumed.  It  would  have  pleased  him  best  to 
take  a  little  house  and  bring  these  three  women  into 
it ;  to  work  for  them  and  order  them  as  if  they  were 
his  kin. 

"  You  can't  go  flying  about  the  world  by  your- 
selves, with  no  money  and  no  man  to  look  after 
you,"  he  said,  regardless  of  Hilary's  gathering 
resentment. 

"  We  have  no  man  to  look  after  us,"  she  said,  "  so 
there  is  no  choice." 

"  I  don't  like  the  plan  at  all.  You  hardly  know 
this  woman." 

"  She  is  my  brother's  widow,"  sighed  Mrs.  Frere. 
"  Poor  Hans  !  she  made  him  very  unhappy." 

"Well,"  said  Dick,  "I  shall  expect  you  back  in  a 
week  or  two.  Have  you  many  friends  left  in  Ham- 
burg ?  " 

"Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  "There  are  the 
Werners  and  Herr  Hansen." 

Dick  looked  swiftly  at  Hilary.  Perhaps  she  would 
not  be  back  in  a  week  or  two.  Perhaps  Herr  Hansen 
would  persuade  her  to  stay  in  Hamburg  altogether. 
Decidedly  this  plan  of  emigration  was  not  one  to  be 
encouraged.  He  got  up  and  went  toward  the  open 
veranda  doors.  The  garden  looked  trim  and  fresh. 
He  stepped  outside  and  considered  how  he  could  best 
lure  Hilary  to  join  him  there.  The  tactics  he  finally 
adopted  were  not  subtle.  He  put  his  head  into  the 
room  and  said  :  "  Hilary,  I  wish  you'd  give  me 
some  flowers,"  and  directly  they  were  in  the  garden 
together  he  said  :  "  Come  and  sit  in  the  summer  house 
and  talk.  I'll  help  you  gather  the  flowers  afterward." 

They  sat  down  together,  and  at  first  found  nothing 
to  say. 

"  I  thought  we  were  to  talk,"  observed  Hilary,  after 
a  time. 

"  I  don't  know  where  to  begin,"  said  Dick.  "  I 
hate  this  Hamburg  plan." 


"  I  see  you  do.     I  don't  know  why." 

"  Suppose  you  come  to  grief  there  ? " 

"This  is  absurd,"  said  Hilary  impatiently.  "We 
are  three  grown-up  women.  Do  you  suppose  we 
can't  take  care  of  ourselves?" 

"  I  don't  think  you  can — without  money." 

Hilary  was  silent.  There  really  seemed  nothing  to 
say.  Words  could  not  alter  the  situation,  so  it  seemed 
foolish  to  waste  them. 

"  You  ought  to  stay  here,"  persisted  Dick. 

Hilary  knew  nothing  of  the  check  to  Dick's  for- 
tunes, and  she  had  rather  expected  him  to  ask  her  to 
marry  him  there  and  then.  She  would  have  refused 
indignantly,  and  told  him  what  she  thought  of  women 
who  married  because  they  needed  board  and  lodging. 
After  the  other  night  it  would  have  afforded  her  keen 
satisfaction  to  refuse  him  again.  Why  did  he  not 
give  her  the  chance  ?  Had  he  changed  his  mind  ?  or 
seen  some  other  girl  who  pleased  him  better,  accord- 
ing to  the  fickle  habits  of  his  sex.  The  idea  gave 
Hilary  a  pang.  She  thought  she  did  not  want  to 
marry  Dick,  though  ever  since  the  other  night  she 
was  not  as  sure  of  this  as  she  had  been,  but  she  was 
quite  positive  that  she  did  not  want  him  to  marry  any- 
one else.  While  he  remained  single  he  belonged  to 
her  in  some  measure,  and  the  thought  of  losing  him 
showed  her  with  a  flash  how  much  she  depended  on 
his  affection.  Surely  she  did  not  love  him  ?  Suppose 
he  suddenly  put  his  arm  round  her  shoulders,  and 
drew  her  to  him?  Suppose  he — kissed  her?  Would 
she  hate  it  ?  She  did  not  know. 

Meanwhile  Dick  fought  manfully  against  his  ardent 
desire  to  do  some  such  thing  as  this.  He  could  not 
marry  until  he  had  retrieved  his  fallen  fortunes,  so  he 
had  determined  not  to  speak  of  his  wishes  again  just 
yet.  In  a  little  while  he  might  see  his  way  more 
clearly,  and  then,  if  Hilary  would  consent  to  engage 

herself He  only  half  believed  in  her  objections 

to  marriage  ;  he  had  a  glimmer  of  hope  that  he  could 
overcome  them.     But  if  she  went  to  Hamburg,  Herr 


•Realities.  "9 

Hansen  would  have  a  long  innings,  with  all  the 
advantages  of  money,  social  prestige,  and  actual 
presence  on  his  side.  For  Hilary  the  chance  was  a 
magnificent  one.  Dick  could  not  deny  that.  But  he 
grudged  her  to  Herr  Hansen  with  his  whole  heart. 

"  Don't  go  to  Hamburg,"  he  entreated.  "  Stay 
here,  and  let  me  look  after  your  affairs." 

Hilary  shook  her  head.  When  she  spoke  there  was 
a  note  of  disappointment  in  her  tone. 

"  We  must  go,"  she  said  resolutely.  "  There  is 
nothing  else  to  do." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

RATS. 

"  IT  is  very  strange  that  Arthur  has  not  been  to  see 
us,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  fretfully.  "  I  cannot  understand 
it.  I  know  that  he  is  back,  because  Dick  mentioned 
having  met  him  more  than  a  week  ago.  I  almost 
wish  we  had  not  accepted  Aunt  Bertha's  invitation. 
Hamburg  is  a  long  way  from  Kensington,  and  if  once 
a  girl  is  out  of  a  man's  sight  !  I  suppose  we  could 
not  have  stayed  on  here  even  with  economy." 

Mrs.  Frere  and  Hilary  were  in  the  morning  room 
on  the  first  floor.  They  were  turning  out  a  cupboard, 
full  of  the  nondescript  rubbish  that  accumulates  from 
year  to  year,  and  from  which  some  persons  never  like 
to  part. 

"  We  are  going  in  such  a  hurry,"  continued  Mrs. 
Frere.  "We  might  very  well  have  waited  a  few 
weeks." 

"  Every  day  in  this  house  costs  more  than  we  can 
afford,"  said  Hilary,  "  and  there  is  nothing  to  wait  for." 

"  You  remind  me  so  much  of  your  father,  my  child. 
He  always  took  a  gloomy  view  of  life.  Poor  Henry  !  " 

Hilary  said  nothing. 

"If  Arthur  calls  before  we  go,  and  if  he  proposes  to 
Nell,  I  shall  certainly  not  run  away  to  Hamburg," 
continued  Mrs.  Frere,  in  the  obstinate  voice  that  is  so 
often  heard  on  the  lips  of  feeble  people.  "  You  see 
my  point,  Hilary  ?"  she  persisted. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  said  Hilary  rather  impatiently,  "  but  I 
do  not  think  it  is  a  case  we  need  consider." 

"  Why  not,  pray  ? " 

"  Because  Arthur  evidently  avoids  the  house  now." 

"  He  has  not  been  back  long.     He  has  probably 


•Rats.  121 

been  very  busy.  Besides,  a  man  naturally  hesitates 
about  making  love  to  a  girl  the  very  hour  her  father 
dies.  I  wish  you  were  more  just  to  Arthur." 

"  What  is  to  be  done  with  all  these  old  guide- 
books ? " 

"  We  had  better  take  them  with  us." 

"We  shall  not  want  them.  We  shall  have  no  money 
for  traveling." 

"  Well,  we  can  always  get  new  ones." 

Hilary  was  still  young  enough  to  think  that  the 
event  which  had  entirely  changed  their  circumstances 
would  affect  their  dispositions  with  equal  force.  On 
her  own  the  last  few  weeks  had  made  an  ineffaceable 
mark.  Her  whole  point  of  view  had  shifted,  and  she 
still  told  herself  every  day  that  even  yet  she  must 
look  at  life  from  a  more  modest  level.  Such  a  little 
while  ago  she  had  told  Dick  that  money  did  not 
trouble  her — that  it  was  never  on  her  mind.  Sud- 
denly her  mind  dwelt  on  it  all  day  ;  her  sleep  was 
broken  by  dreams  of  it  at  night  ;  she  went  to  bed 
worn  out  with  worry,  and  woke  at  all  hours  weary 
and  incapable  of  rest  ;  she  would  not  look  at  the 
morrow,  since  the  morrow  held  no  pleasant  promise  ; 
she  tried  not  to  look  at  the  future,  for  it  was  wrapped 
in  gloom.  To-day  she  was  not  suffering  from  actual 
want,  and  for  to-day  she  must  henceforward  live, 
thankful  if  it  held  no  new  privations. 

It  was  therefore  a  constant  surprise  to  her  to  find 
that  their  reverses  had  not  affected  her  mother  and 
Nell  in  the  same  real  way.  They  were  unhappy,  of 
course,  and  they  sometimes  seemed  to  remember  that 
they  were  poor.  But  it  never  struck  them  that  any 
day  the  very  necessaries  of  life  might  be  luxuries 
beyond  their  reach.  Meat,  wine,  fire,  and  comfort- 
able clothes — with  these  they  still  supplied  themselves 
in  a  matter-of-course  spirit  that  filled  Hilary  with 
amazement  and  foreboding.  She  felt  ready  to  walk 
straight  to  an  attic  in  a  slum  and  live  on  a  shilling 
a  day,  on  bread  and  water  if  need  be,  to  die  of  slow 
starvation  rather  than  plunge  into  disgraceful  diffi- 


(Sraseboppers. 

culties.  She  sometimes  asked  herself  whether  she 
could  live  by  herself,  in  this  manner,  on  a  third  of 
their  income,  about  seventeen  pounds  a  year,  until 
she  got  work.  But  she  never  thought  of  it  as  really 
possible,  because  she  could  not  separate  her  interests 
from  those  of  her  mother  and  sister.  They  must 
sink  and  swim  together.  Of  course,  they  must  sepa- 
rate sooner  or  later,  when  the  two  girls  went  out  into 
the  world  as  governesses.  Hilary  believed  that  this 
time-honored  resource  for  the  destitute  would  only 
grieve  her  mother  mildly.  Mrs.  Frere  did  not  wish 
her  children  to  drudge  in  schoolrooms,  but  it  would 
trouble  her  far  more  deeply  to  think  of  Hilary  starv- 
ing alone  in  a  garret. 

Meanwhile,  all  the  pleasant  details  of  their  old  life 
began  to  look  costly  and  precious.  When  she  went 
to  bed  at  night  in  her  pretty  room,  when  the  maid 
came  in  each  morning  to  bring  hot  water  and  let  in 
the  light,  when  she  went  down  to  breakfast  and  saw 
the  table  set  with  flowers,  and  silver,  and  dainty  food, 
when  she  dressed  for  dinner,  she  realized  with 
increasing  pain  that  this  easy  existence  was  nearly  at 
an  end.  She  could  not  understand  why  her  mother 
and  sister  felt  this  so  faintly.  They  behaved  as  if 
their  present  troubles  were  a  disagreeable  episode. 
Hilary  believed  that  they  would  lash  and  deepen 
until  the  victims  were  submerged. 

Of  the  Theodores  they  had  as  yet  seen  nothing. 
Mr.  Harrison  acted  as  go-between  in  business  matters, 
and  Mrs.  Theodore  had  only  lately  returned  from 
Paris.  But  one  Sunday,  in  the  afternoon  of  Mrs. 
Frere's  last  day  in  her  old  home,  when  she  was  sitting 
with  her  daughters  and  Dick,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Theodore 
and  Sophia  were  shown  in.  Mrs.  Theodore  was,  as 
usual,  the  figure  of  fashion.  She  wore  pale  heliotrope  ; 
she  carried  a  parasol  of  heliotrope  chiffon,  and  as  she 
crossed  her  feet  she  showed  an  elaborate  petticoat  of 
silk  and  lace.  Sophia  was  equally  smart,  but  not 
equally  effective.  She  sat  bolt  upright,  and  looked  at 
people  with  a  self-satisfied  simper  as  vacant  as  her 


•Rats.  "3 

conversation,  and  Mrs.  Frere  observed  at  once  that 
she  was  sunburnt,  and  that  it  did  not  suit  her.  Near 
her  heavy,  swarthy  face  Hilary  and  Nell  looked  like 
lilies. 

"  I  am  only  just  in  time,  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Theo- 
dore. "  Mrs.  Preston  told  me  you  were  off  to-day. 
I  have  only  just  come  back,  you  know.  Dressmakers 
are  such  ruffians.  They  seem  to  think  time  is  made 
for  them  and  no  one  else.  I  meant  to  stay  two  days 
in  Paris,  and  I  hung  about  there  for  ten.  So  you  are 
really  going  to  spend  the  winter  in  Hamburg  !  How 
jolly  !  I  suppose  you'll  find  all  your  old  friends  and 
relations  there  ?  " 

"  Most  of  them  are  dead,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  Oh  !  but  they'll  come  to  life  again.  I  mean 
they'll  turn  up.  I  am  beset  by  aunts  and  cousins 
when  I  go  to  Yorkshire.  They  want  me  to  do  shop- 
ping for  them  in  London — the  brutes  !  I  don't  think 
one  ought  to  feel  related  to  cousins.  Is  Hamburg  a 
very  German  town  ?  " 

"  It  isn't  French  or  English,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  What  a  pity  !  I  wonder  whether  anyone  would 
be  born  out  of  London  or  Paris,  if  he  could  possibly 
help  it.  I  want  to  go  there  some  day,  though,  and 
hunt  up  the  family  pedigree." 

"  There  would  be  no  difficulty  about  that,"  replied 
Mrs.  Frere.  "  I  remember  your  grandfather's  shop 
as  well  as  possible.  It  was  a  very  fine  one,  built  soon 
after  the  great  fire.  I  dare  say  it  is  still  there." 

"  How  interesting  !  "  said  Mrs.  Theodore.  "  I 
should  like  to  have  a  photograph  of  it.  But  my 
grandfather  was  a  bishop,  dear  Mrs.  Frere." 

"  Was  he  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Frere  indifferently.  "  Did 
you  enjoy  Pontresina  ?  " 

"  Not  much.  We  went  to  the  wrong  hotel.  It  was 
crowded  with  Germans." 

"  Couldn't  you  move  to  the  right  one." 

"  No.  Quite  full.  It  was  a  great  bore,  because 
several  of  my  friends  were  there — Mrs.  Finch-Brassey, 
and  that  poor  beautiful  Mrs.  Bremen,  who  lost  her 


J24  Cbe  <5ra08boppers. 

husband  in  such  a  sad  way,  and  the  dear  Bishop  of 
Butterraere.  And  there  were  we  dining  opposite  a 
creature  who  put  half  his  knife  down  his  throat,  for 
all  the  world  like  a  conjuror.  Then,  of  course,  Stanley 
disappointed  us  at  the  last  moment,  and  we  had  to 
travel  to  Paris  by  ourselves.  It  was  most  uncom- 
fortable." 

"  I  am  afraid  my  husband  died  at  an  inconvenient 
time,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

She  perceived  that  Mrs.  Theodore  wished  to  avoid 
outspoken  expressions  of  condolence,  and  if  her 
manner  had  been  ever  so  slightly  sympathetic,  Mrs. 
Frere  would  have  forgiven  her,  though  to  a  German 
the  English  reserve  in  offering  spoken  condolence 
after  a  death  is  hard  to  understand.  Mrs.  Theodore 
had  written  a  civil  letter,  and  considered  that  she  had 
done  what  was  proper,  which  was  all  she  cared  to  do. 
But  her  chatter  grated  on  Mrs.  Frere,  her  fine  clothes 
seemed  to  flaunt  themselves.  Even  Mrs.  Frere's  last 
remark  did  not  penetrate  her  dense  self-complacency. 

"  I  wished  we  had  gone  away  in  June,"  she 
answered.  "  Mr.  Theodore  has  had  a  very  trying 
summer,  and  even  now  he  says  he  cannot  get  a  holi- 
day. Don't  you  think  he  looks  pale  and  thin  ?  " 

"I  had  not  noticed  it." 

"  He  does,  I  assure  you.  I  get  quite  anxious  about 
him.  Of  course,  he  is  comparatively  a  young  man. 
Still,  one  never  knows." 

Mr.  Theodore  and  Dick  had  exchanged  a  few 
remarks  about  the  weather,  and  found  it  uncommonly 
difficult  to  sustain  a  conversation.  They  accordingly 
looked  toward  the  ladies,  and  listened  to  what  went 
on  in  their  corner  of  the  room.  Mrs.  Theodore  had 
lowered  her  voice  while  she  spoke  of  her  husband's 
health,  but  he  heard  all  she  said  and  strolled  nearer 
to  her. 

"  I  don't  intend  to  be  killed,  I  assure  you,"  he  said 
with  his  washed-out  smile.  "  If  you  show  signs  of 
wanting  to  ruin  me,  I  shall  put  one  of  those  advertise- 
ments in  the  papers  and  disclaim  your  debts," 


•Rats.  125 

"  I  was  talking  of  overwork  and  not  of  debts,"  said 
his  wife. 

"  Oh  !  work  doesn't  kill  people,"  he  said,  sinking 
into  a  chair,  as  if  his  muscles  would  not  support  him, 
and  crossing  his  legs  ;  "  anxiety  does  it." 

"My  husband  was  killed  by  overwork  and  by  a 
shock,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  her  indignation  rising  at  Mr. 
Theodore's  tone.  He  looked  at  her  briefly. 

"  Poor  man  !  "  was  all  he  said. 

Dick  felt  furious.  A  silence  followed,  during  which 
Mrs.  Frere's  agitation  was  painfully  visible  ;  and  then 
Sophia  Theodore,  who  had  not  spoken  before,  said  in 
her  queer,  hoarse  voice  : 

"  Has  Arthur  Preston  been  here  ?  I  saw  him  at  the 
theater  last  night.  He  said  he  was  coming  to  bid  you 
good-by  this  afternoon." 

"  He  has  not  been  here,"  said  Hilary.  She  saw 
Nell  turn  white  and  then  red. 

"  He  is  going  round  the  world,  you  know,"  said 
Mrs.  Theodore. 

"  Yes,"  observed  Sophia  ;  "  I  wish  he  would  take 
me  with  him." 

"  Sophia  !  "  said  her  sister-in-law  sharply. 

"  I  like  traveling,"  explained  Sophia. 

"  I  think  it  is  so  sensible  of  him  to  go  now  while  he 
has  no  ties,"  continued  Mrs.  Theodore.  "  A  young 
man  ought  to  see  the  world." 

"  I  don't  know  that  a  globe-trotter  necessarily  sees 
much  of  it,"  said  Dick.  He  perceived  that  the  Freres 
were  concerned  to  hear  of  this  intended  journey. 
The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  when  the 
young  man  in  question  entered  the  room. 

Mrs.  Frere  got  up  to  greet  him.  She  wished  that 
the  Theodores  would  go  now,  but  they  did  not  seem 
inclined  to  do  so.  On  the  contrary,  Mrs.  Theodore 
invited  Arthur  to  sit  down  near  her,  and  engaged  him 
in  conversation.  She  said  that  she  had  a  great  deal 
of  information  to  give  him,  as  she  had  spent  a  winter 
in  India  herself. 

This    went    on    for    some    time.     Mrs.  Theodore 


<3ras0bopperg. 

chattered.  Arthur  listened.  The  three  girls  made 
desultory  remarks.  The  two  men,  Mr.  Theodore  and 
Dick,  grew  restless  ;  so  did  Mrs.  Frere.  She  saw 
with  vexation  that  the  afternoon  light  shone  unbecom- 
ingly on  Nell,  exposing  more  than  need  be  the  havoc 
made  by  the  last  few  weeks  in  the  girl's  good  looks. 
Seen  thus,  the  change  was  startling.  She  had  grown 
thin  and  hollow-eyed  ;  her  color  had  fled ;  her  black 
gown  did  not  suit  her.  She  sat  there  silently,  and 
hardly  glanced  at  Arthur  ;  but  her  mother  could  see 
that  the  child  felt  his  presence  in  every  fiber  of  her 
body,  and  that  it  cost  her  an  immense  effort  to  make 
no  sign. 

"  Did  you  know  that  we  were  leaving  London  to- 
night ?  "  said  Hilary,  when  at  last  there  was  a  lull. 

"Yes,"  Arthur  acknowledged  ;  "  I  thought  I'd  like 
to  say  good-by.  I'm  going  away  myself  directly. 
When  do  you  come  back  ?  " 

"  Probably  never,"  said  Nell,  looking  straight  at  him 
for  the  first  time. 

"  You  must  come  and  see  us  in  Hamburg,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere. 

"  When  people  leave  London  they  vanish,"  observed 
Mrs.  Theodore,  with  a  sweeping  gesture  of  her  hands. 
"  You  had  better  come  back,  Mrs.  Frere." 

She  got  up  as  she  spoke  and  shook  hands  with  her 
hostess,  said  they  had  made  quite  a  visitation,  hoped 
the  journey  would  not  be  a  cold  one,  begged  the  girls 
to  write  sometimes  and  assure  their  London  friends 
that  they  were  not  forgotten.  Then  she  turned  to 
Arthur,  and  asked  him  to  drive  back  with  them  and 
dine,  an  invitation  which  he  accepted  with  promptness 
and  relief.  She  asked  Mr.  Lorimer  why  he  never 
came  to  see  her,  but  did  not  wait  for  his  reply.  She 
gave  Hilary  and  Nell  each  a  little  peck  on  one  cheek, 
a  familiarity  that  took  them  by  surprise,  and  then  she 
rustled  out  of  the  room,  still  chattering  to  Arthur,  as 
she  went  downstairs,  of  a  certain  tin-lined  trunk  that 
she  proposed  to  lend  him  for  the  voyage. 

Directly  they  were  gone  Nell  burst  into  tears.     She 


Hats.  127 

buried  her  head  in  the  sofa  cushions  and  sobbed 
hopelessly.  Her  mother  tried  to  comfort  her. 

"  Come  away,"  said  Hilary  to  Dick.  "  Come  round 
the  garden.  I  want  to  bid  it  good-by." 

She  led  the  way  to  a  corner  she  counted  especially 
her  own,  where  she  had  grown  her  favorite  flowers. 
She  began  to  gather  some,  and  arranged  them  in  her 
hands,  but  Dick  felt  that  her  thoughts  were  with  her 
sister  upstairs. 

"  Why  are  you  here,  Dick  ? "  she  said  suddenly. 
"  Go  away.  Come  for  a  ten  minutes'  call  and  then 
depart  forever.  No  one  will  blame  you — on  the 
contrary." 

"  I  never  thought  much  of  young  Preston,"  returned 
Dick.  "  A  selfish  cub  !  " 

Hilary  was  still  stooping  over  the  flower-bed,  mov- 
ing slowly  from  one  patch  to  the  next.  Dick  followed 
her  until  they  arrived  at  a  garden  seat ;  then  he  sat 
down,  thinking  of  to-morrow  afternoon  when  she 
would  have  sped  miles  away. 

"I  would  give  you  a  bunch,"  she  began,  holding 
those  she  had  gathered  toward  him,  "  but  I  know  you 
would  put  them  into  a  bedroom  tumbler  half-full  of 
water  with  all  their  heads  squashed  level." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  them?" 

"  Take  them  with  me." 

She  picked  some  clove  carnations,  found  her  bunch 
over  large  for  one  hand  already,  and  sat  down  next  to 
Dick  to  rearrange  them. 

"  But  what  is  the  good  ? "  she  cried  dejectedly. 
"  It  is  like  putting  a  purse  into  a  coffin.  I  can't  really 
take  them  or  anything  else  with  me.  Dick  !  you 
know  more  of  men  than  I  do.  What  did  Arthur's 
visit  mean  ?  and  his  journey  round  the  world  ?  Has 
he  deserted  Nell  ?" 

"  It  looks  like  it,"  admitted  Dick  unwillingly. 

"  I  suppose  that  is  what  we  have  to  expect — of 
everyone — now  that  we  are  poor.  No  one  will  be 
glad  to  see  us  or  wish  to  have  more  to  do  with  us 
than  they  can  help,  I  think  we  are  wise  to  leave 


128  Gbe  <5ra0sbopper0. 


London.  We  should  have  felt  the  change  at  every 
turn  —  seen  it  reflected  on  every  face."  She  stopped, 
considered,  and  then  said,  with  some  compunction, 
"  Except  on  yours,  Dick." 

"  You  mustn't  be  blue,"  said  Dick.  "  It's  no 
good." 

"  Well,"  she  sighed,  "  we  had  better  go  back  to  the 
house.  There  are  several  things  to  do  still." 

"  Wait  a  bit,"  urged  Dick.  "  You'll  write  some- 
times, won't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  we  will  write  certainly  ;  but  so  must  you. 
Of  course,  there  is  never  anything  in  a  man's  letters. 
Still  they  will  come  from  England.  There  will  be  an 
English  air  about  them.  I  believe  we  shall  die  of 
home-sickness  over  there." 

"  I  hope  you  will  be  driven  back  again,"  said 
Dick. 

"  We  should  have  to  walk  back,  I  think,"  said 
Hilary,  "  unless  I  find  some  way  of  making  money." 

"  I  shall  be  over  there  before  Christmas,  for  a  day 
or  two.  I  shall  come  and  see  you." 

"  That  will  be  something  to  look  forward  to,"  said 
Hilary. 

Now  that  the  moment  of  their  separation  was  so 
near,  Dick  felt  sorely  tempted  to  say  a  word  of  his 
wishes  for  the  future  again.  Two  considerations 
held  him  back  now,  as  they  had  held  him  on  the 
evening  before  Mr.  Frere  died.  He  did  not  believe 
that  Hilary's  affection  for  him  was  more  than  friendly, 
and  it  seemed  difficult  to  him  to  explain  that  he  could 
not  marry  yet  awhile.  To  begin  by  saying  so  would 
be  fatuous.  To  say  so,  if  she  accepted  him,  might  lead 
to  awkward  explanations.  He  might  vaguely  talk  of 
business  reverses  —  but  he  felt  sure  she  would  not  ac- 
cept him.  Had  she  not  refused  him  explicitly  not  so 
many  weeks  ago  ?  Perhaps  if  Dick  had  still  been  in 
a  position  to  marry  this  day,  or  the  next,  he  would 
have  tried  his  luck  again.  But  as  this  was  impossible, 
he  reasoned  that  he  had  better  not  run  the  risk  of  a 
second  rebuff.  To-day  he  must  let  her  wander  from 


129 

him.  Perhaps  time  would  bring  her  back,  and  in 
a  different  frame  of  mind. 

They  returned  to  the  house  together,  and  found 
plenty  to  do  for  the  next  two  hours.  It  was  depress- 
ing work  to  stroll  through  the  stripped,  disordered 
rooms,  and  imagine  what  they  would  look  like  three 
days  hence,  in  the  hands  of  an  auctioneer.  Hilary 
opened  the  piano,  and  played  a  Prelude  of  Chopin's 
that  her  father  had  asked  for  sometimes.  Then  she 
knelt  down  in  front  of  a  long  dwarf  bookcase  full  of 
old  friends  she  must  leave  behind.  There  were  the 
pink-covered  "  Waverleys  "  that  had  belonged  to  her 
grandfather.  It  was  very  hard  to  let  them  go.  The 
Master  of  Ravenswood  would  look  at  her  with  unrecog- 
nizing  eyes  from  newer  pages.  She  could  not  make 
friends  with  a  paper-backed  Coeur  de  Lion,  or  thrill  for 
any  other  Amy  than  the  one  she  had  always  known. 
And  here  was  the  nice  old  edition  of  Shakspere. 
Where  else  would  she  find  Hamlet  and  Beatrice  and 
Romeo?  Between  these  dull  gray  boards  she  had 
found  them  years  ago  ;  and  now,  with  everything  else 
in  her  old  home,  they  were  to  be  taken  from  her. 

When  it  was  nearly  time  to  start  she  went  into  her 
own  room  to  put  on  her  traveling  things.  This  last 
hour  seemed  interminable.  It  would  be  a  relief  when 
the  cab  came  and  carried  them  away.  Everything 
she  looked  at  here,  everything  she  did,  gave  her  pain, 
and  she  knew  that  for  her  mother  the  wrench  must 
be  more  grievous  still.  Mrs.  Frere  came  in  ready 
dressed  while  Hilary  was  pinning  on  her  hat  and  veil. 
She  had  followed  one  of  her  children  everywhere  all 
through  the  day.  She  sat  down  now  and  looked 
about  her. 

"  I  thought  you  would  go  away  from  this  room  as 
a  bride,"  she  said  sadly. 

In  her  own  mind  she  pictured  the  events  of  the 
day  she  had  so  greatly  wished  to  see.  She  beheld 
Hilary  in  this  very  room  on  her  marriage  morning,  in 
her  marriage  robe.  She  saw  the  shimmer  of  satin, 
and  the  misty  veil,  and  the  wax-like  orange  flowers  ; 


1 3°  Gbe 

she  saw  her  later  in  her  traveling  gown,  pelted  with 
rice  by  the  wedding  crowd,  taken  from  her  mother's 
arms  by  one  nearer  and  dearer  still  ;  she  saw  her 
father  smile  and  Nell  shed  a  few  tears  while  she  her- 
self did  both.  She  saw  her  there  to-day,  in  deep 
mourning,  her  father  dead,  her  home  in  ruins,  with  no 
bridegroom  at  her  side,  going  forth  this  instant  on 
her  mother's  helpless  arm  to  suffer  privation,  to  de- 
pend on  charity,  to  flee  from  actual  want. 

"  Well,  mother,"  said  Hilary,  "  it  is  time  to  go.  Is 
Nell  ready  ? " 

"  Poor  Nell !  "  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

The  worst  moment  was  not,  as  Hilary  had  expected, 
the  one  of  going  away.  On  all  sides  there  were 
matters  that  required  attention  and  diverted  their 
thoughts.  The  dreaded  moment  had  come  and  gone 
before  they  had  time  to  reflect  that  it  was  there. 
Dick  hurried  them  into  the  cab,  rushed  back  for  a 
forgotten  trunk,  took  charge  of  keys,  gave  final 
orders,  and  drove  off  with  them  to  Charing  Cross. 
The  London  streets  looked  hideously  stale  and  dusty. 
Perhaps  there  would  be  trees  and  rivers  in  the  foreign 
land. 

But  as  Dick  stood  on  the  platform,  and  watched  the 
train  steam  out  of  the  station,  he  wished  he  could 
fetch  his  friends  back.  To  what  were  the  three 
women  going?  how  many  dreary  hours  awaited  them  ? 
into  whose  clutches  might  they  not  stray  ?  How 
could  creatures  incapable  of  earning  money,  and 
having  none  to  spend,  ever  shift  for  themselves  ? 
They  needed  a  man's  support  as  distinctly  as  a  child 
needs  the  care  of  a  grown-up  person.  Why  had  he 
let  them  go  ? 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FIRST    IMPRESSIONS. 

WHEN  you  are  young,  a  journey  through  a  foreign 
country  can  hardly  fail  to  entertain  you.  At  any  rate, 
your  eyes  and  ears  are  busy,  and  that,  if  you  are  out 
of  spirits,  is  in  itself  a  tonic.  Hilary  did  not  sleep 
much  while  she  traveled,  but  she  looked  out  of  the 
window.  When  the  dawn  broke  they  were  speeding 
through  a  Flemish  country  wrapped  in  a  golden  haze, 
tranquil  and  strange.  The  grass  was  dripping  with 
dew,  the  cattle  stood  knee-deep  in  reedy  ponds, 
leaves  fluttered  singly  and  silently  from  the  autumn 
trees.  No  men  and  women  were  astir  yet  in  the  com- 
fortable-looking homesteads.  Hilary  felt  sorry  when 
the  train  carried  them  into  a  wide-awake  world  again 
where  everyone  was  busy.  The  morning  hours  be- 
tween Brussels  and  Cologne  were  more  tiring  than 
the  night  had  been  ;  and  when  at  last  the  Freres 
reached  the  old  cathedral  town,  they  were  glad  to  rest 
there  for  half  a  day  before  going  on.  But  at  night, 
when  they  resumed  their  journey,  Hilary  reflected 
that  their  halt  had  cost  them  dear.  Every  bookstall, 
every  shop-window,  every  pedler  hawking  local  wares 
held  bait  for  Mrs.  Frere.  What  she  saw  she  wanted, 
like  a  badly  brought-up  child,  and  Nell  abetted  her. 
They  came  back  to  the  station  refreshment  room  with 
their  hands  full  of  photographs  and  eau  de  cologne  ; 
they  had  spent  a  considerable  sum  on  seeing  the 
hidden  treasures  of  the  Dom  ;  and  they  proceeded  to 
order  a  meal  that  cost  at  least  a  week's  income. 
Hilary  stared  at  the  stars  while  her  mother  and  sister 
slept,  and  she  wondered  what  they  would  do  when 
their  money  was  all  gone.  As  she  understood  their 


r32  tTbe  (Brassboppers. 

affairs,  they  owned  nothing  in  the  world  but  their 
household  furniture  and  one  thousand  pounds,  which 
would  be  paid  about  three  months  hence  by  the  in- 
surance office.  The  furniture  was  to  be  sold,  and 
the  proceeds  would  belong  to  Mrs.  Frere,  to  squander 
in  a  week,  if  she  saw  fit.  She  had  agreed  to  leave  the 
money  in  Mr.  Harrison's  hands  provisionally,  and  to 
write  for  small  sums  as  she  needed  them.  Hilary  felt 
convinced  that  her  mother's  applications  would  be 
frequent.  The  insurance  money  was  to  be  held  in 
trust  for  Nell  and  herself  until  they  married  or  at- 
tained the  age  of  twenty-five  ;  and  from  this  source 
they  could  reckon  on  an  income  of  forty  pounds  a 
year.  Nothing  had  been  forthcoming  from  the  busi- 
ness. Mr.  Frere's  claims  on  the  year's  profits  ceased 
the  day  he  died.  Mr.  Theodore  had  paid  his  late 
partner's  private  bills,  and  explained,  through  Mr. 
Harrison,  that  even  this  was  more  than  he  need  have 
done.  Hilary  reckoned  that  the  bills  amounted  to 
about  two  hundred  pounds.  For  their  traveling 
expenses  they  had  been  obliged  to  sell  the  household 
silver. 

Mr.  Theodore  often  said  of  himself  that  he  was  not 
a  philanthropist,  and  as  far  as  his  partner's  widow 
was  concerned  he  made  good  his  words  with  all  the 
pleasure  in  life.  He  did  not  rob  her,  but  he  kept 
hold  of  every  penny  he  might  by  any  legal  stretch  call 
his.  He  could  trust  Mr.  Harrison  to  bluster  if  Mrs. 
Frere  asked  tiresome,  addle-headed  questions.  Mr. 
Harrison  had  a  most  valuable  manner  ;  he  could  sug- 
gest jail  with  a  grunt,  and  penal  servitude  with  a 
frown,  to  a  woman  as  timorous  and  ignorant  as  Mrs. 
Frere.  He  did,  in  fact,  tell  the  silly  lady  that  the  bed 
she  slept  on  might  be  taken  from  her  if  she  showed 
the  least  distrust  of  Mr.  Theodore,  and  after  that  she 
held  her  tongue. 

Hilary  sometimes  wondered  why  a  thousand  pounds 
had  been  left  to  them.  Suppose  it  had  been  claimed 
for  a  business  debt  ?  what  could  they  have  said  or 
done  ?  They  could  not  fight  two  hard-headed  busi- 


first  Impressions.  *33 

ness  men.  It  was  most  unfortunate  that  their  father 
had  not  committed  their  interests  to  other  hands  ;  but 
his  will  had  been  made  many  years  ago,  when  Mr. 
Theodore  first  came  to  the  office  ;  he  had  narrowed  and 
hardened  since  then.  The  two  partners  had  drifted 
further  and  further  apart.  Everything  had  altered 
except  the  half-forgotten  legal  document  that,  after 
lying  so  many  years  in  a  cupboard,  had  suddenly 
become  of  paramount  importance. 

It  grew  colder  as  they  traveled  northward,  and 
toward  morning  a  fine  rain  began  to  fall.  When,  at 
an  early  hour,  they  arrived  in  Hamburg,  they  felt 
tired  and  chilly.  At  the  station  no  one  came  forward 
to  meet  them,  and,  after  claiming  their  luggage,  they 
set  out  for  the  distant  suburb  where  Frau  Lange  lived. 
It  was  a  dreary  drive  along  an  interminable  road. 
They  passed  between  lines  of  inferior  shops  and  of 
tall,  dull  houses  built  in  flats.  Further  on  there  were 
spaces  not  yet  covered — mere  sandy  deserts  given  up 
to  fair  booths  at  stated  intervals  throughout  the  year, 
but  empty  now,  and  as  ugly  as  Wormwood  Scrubbs. 
The  working  population  was  astir  already,  and  proved 
more  interesting  to  the  English  ladies  than  the  land- 
scape, the  women  and  children  were  so  plainly  dressed, 
so  tidily  shod.  There  were  servants  on  their  way  to 
market,  bare-headed,  wearing  clean  cotton  gowns, 
and  carrying  large  baskets  in  which  to  bring  back 
the  provisions  of  the  day  ;  there  were  soldiers  on  the 
march  to  their  barracks  ;  the  cab  drivers  and  the 
tramcar  conductors  wore  smart  uniforms,  and  looked 
like  government  officials  ;  the  postmen  walked  as  if 
they  had  been  drilled. 

After  driving  at  a  snail's  pace  for  nearly  an  hour, 
the  Freres  found  themselves  in  the  main  street  of  a 
little  suburban  town.  The  cab  soon  turned  off  into  a 
quieter  road  that  led  to  a  whole  colony  of  detached 
villas,  varying  in  shape,  in  size,  and  in  the  amount  of 
garden  belonging  to  each.  The  driver  stopped  at  one 
of  these.  The  girls  looked  eagerly  out,  and  their  first 
impression  was  a  pleasant  one.  They  had  expected 


a  be  0ra00boppcr0. 

something  worse.  The  house  stood  in  the  midst  of  a 
small  garden,  decorated  with  large  colored  glass  balls, 
cheap  plaster  casts,  and  a  few  flowers.  It  looked 
clean,  and  new,  and  roomy,  and  as  ornate  as  if  a 
confectioner  had  designed  it.  The  varnish  on  the 
little  balconies  glistened  in  the  sunshine  ;  the  paint  on 
the  outside  shutters  was  as  green  as  grass  ;  the  French 
windows  were  all  closed.  More  than  this  they  had 
not  time  to  observe,  because,  as  the  cab  stopped,  the 
front  door  opened,  and  their  aunt  appeared  on  the 
threshold. 

Mrs.  Frere  ran  impulsively  forward  and  imprinted 
a  warm  kiss  on  her  cheek.  Hilary  and  Nell  held 
themselves  ready  to  do  likewise  in  a  somewhat  cooler 
fashion.  Frau  Lange's  appearance  gave  her  nieces  a 
severe  shock.  It  was  far  less  promising  than  her 
house.  She  looked  outlandish,  unrefined,  and  bad- 
tempered.  She  had  come  back  from  Peru  thin  and 
sallow.  Five  years  of  her  native  food  and  climate 
had  changed  her  into  a  stout,  florid  woman.  She  still 
wore  her  back  hair  in  grotesquely  elaborate  coils, 
while  on  either  side  of  her  face  it  was  frizzed  over 
pads.  Her  little  black  eyes  were  much  smaller  in  her 
filled  out  face  than  they  had  been  in  her  hollow- 
cheeked  one.  The  lines  about  her  mouth — those 
lines  we  all  make  for  ourselves  from  day  to  day — said 
little  for  her  self-control  or  for  her  good-humor.  She 
wore  an  uncouth  plaid  dressing  gown,  shabby  slippers, 
and  several  fine  diamond  rings.  She  received  her 
sister-in-law  so  impassively,  she  seemed  so  much  less 
interested  in  her  nieces  than  in  the  cab-driver,  that 
the  girls  thought  they  might  escape  without  exchang- 
ing kisses.  They  offered  to  shake  hands,  but  their 
offer  was  not  observed,  and  they  passed  beyond  their 
aunt  into  the  house.  A  moment  later  Frau  Lange 
had  plunged  into  a  lively  altercation  with  the  cab- 
driver.  Her  impassive  manner  gave  way  to  one  of 
active  indignation.  She  would  not  allow  him  to 
carry  the  trunks  upstairs  unless  he  first  took  off  his 
boots. 


ffirst  Impressions.  135 

"Why  did  you  bring  so  many  ?"  she  said  suddenly 
to  Mrs.  Frere.  "  It's  absurd.  When  I  travel  I  take 
one  portmanteau." 

"  But  we  have  brought  all  we  possess.  We  have 
left  nothing  at  home,"  replied  Mrs.  Frere,  with  an 
apologetic  face. 

Frau  Lange  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"You  will  find  it  very  expensive,  if  you  travel 
much,"  she  said.  "  Do  you  want  any  of  them  taken 
into  your  bedroom  ?  " 

"  We  should  like  to  have  them  all  there,"  said  Nell. 

By  this  time  a  slovenly  looking  maid-servant  had 
arrived  on  the  scene,  and  prepared  to  help  in  carrying 
the  luggage  upstairs.  Frau  Lange  watched  the  proc- 
ess so  intently  that  she  probably  made  the  poor 
creature  nervous  ;  at  any  rate,  the  corner  of  a  large 
trunk  was  allowed  to  bump  against  the  wall  at  an 
awkward  turn  of  the  staircase.  In  a  moment  the 
mistress  of  the  house  had  darted  forward,  her  tongue 
unloosed,  her  hands  trembling  with  anger,  as  she 
pointed  to  the  dent  made  in  the  wall  paper. 

The  girl,  she  informed  her  wondering  relatives,  was 
the  wickedest  slut  in  Germany.  None  of  the  many 
bad  servants  who  had  helped  to  wear  out  her  nerves 
approached  this  particular  Auguste  in  thievishness 
and  incompetence.  That  very  morning  she  had 
broken  one  of  the  best  eggcups.  Mrs.  Frere  had 
better  lock  up  her  clothes.  Twelve  plums  were  miss- 
ing from  the  fruit  provided  for  a  tart  at  to-day's 
dinner  !  Frau  Lange  had  counted  them  herself  the 
night  before.  There  would  not  be  enough  to  go 
round  now.  But  the  girl  was  capable  of  anything. 
She  was  treated  like  a  princess,  and  yet  she  had  the 
impudence  to  grumble  because  she  could  not  have 
butter  for  breakfast.  Her  mistress  never  dreamed  of 
eating  butter  for  breakfast,  but  that  made  no  differ- 
ence. In  these  wicked  times  servants  expected 
luxuries  their  superiors  could  not  afford  for  them- 
selves. Why  had  Nell  sat  down  on  the  staircase  ? 
She  was  in  the  way  there.  In  Germany  people  sat 


J36  Ube  (Srassboppers. 


on  chairs.  If  the  cabman  saw  her  he  would  think 
she  was  out  of  her  mind. 

"We  have  been  traveling  for  two  nights,"  explained 
Mrs.  Frere.  "  We  are  very  tired." 

"  I  have  not  slept  well  either,"  said  Frau  Lange. 
"  One  may  rest  as  little  in  bed  as  on  a  journey.  I 
am  often  kept  awake  by  vexation  since  Auguste  has 
been  in  my  house.  However,  we  had  better  come  up- 
stairs now.  I  must  take  care  that  they  do  not  scratch 
the  paint  on  the  floors." 

The  Freres  followed  their  hostess  to  the  second 
story,  where  they  were  shown  the  bedroom  allotted  to 
them,  and  a  barely  furnished  sitting  room  opening  out 
of  it,  in  which  they  would  all  take  their  meals.  The 
first  floor  was  occupied  by  the"  best  "sitting  room  and 
by  Frau  Lange's  bedroom.  On  the  ground  floor  there 
were  only  household  offices  and  kitchens.  The 
arrangement  seemed  curious  and  inconvenient  to 
the  newcomers. 

"  You  get  your  one  servant  to  carry  all  the  meals 
to  the  top  of  the  house  !  "  said  Mrs.  Frere  incau- 
tiously. 

Her  sister-in-law  went  on  the  war-path  again 
directly.  The  two  girls  strolled  away  from  her  into 
the  bedroom  and  looked  more  closely  at  their  new 
sleeping  quarters.  They  saw  three  very  short,  narrow, 
wooden  bedsteads,  on  each  of  which  lay  a  large  square 
pillow  in  a  linen  pillow-case,  trimmed  with  lace,  and 
marked  in  the  middle  with  an  enormous  embroidered 
monogram.  Two  of  the  bedsteads  had  bright  green 
eider-downs,  and  the  third,  a  more  old-fashioned 
plumeau  as  high  as  a  well-shaken  feather  bed,  and 
covered  with  checked  muslin.  There  was  one  linen 
sheet  on  each  mattress,  but  there  were  no  top  sheets, 
and  no  blankets.  For  their  clothes,  they  saw  a  huge 
wooden  cupboard  ;  for  their  ablutions,  one  small 
washstand  ;  for  their  vanity,  a  miserable  little  mirror 
hung  facing  the  light.  There  were  two  chairs,  lace 
curtains,  and  no  carpet.  Presently  Mrs.  Frere  came 
in,  and  found  her  daughters  disconsolately  sitting  on 


fftrst  fmpreeeions.  J37 

the  floor  in  front  of  open  trunks.  They  had  only 
found  rows  of  pegs  in  the  cupboard,  and  did  not 
know  where  to  put  their  things  away. 

"  I  had  forgotten  some  of  the  details  of  German 
life,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  going  straight  to  the  wash- 
stand.  "  There  is  not  a  quart  of  water  here.  Your 
aant  seemed  quite  surprised  that  I  wanted  any  at  all. 
She  said  that  Auguste  would  not  like  to  put  the  wash- 
stand  in  order  more  than  once  a  day.  I  am  afraid 
she  is  rather  peculiar.  I  wonder  who  she  was.  My 
brother  picked  her  up  in  Peru,  and  I  have  never  heard 
that  she  has  anyone  respectable  belonging  to  her. 
She  says  she  does  not  know  the  Werners.  I  daresay 
they  will  not  wish  to  come  and  see  us  here.  However, 
we  can  go  to  them." 

"  Really,  mamma,"  said  Nell,  "  why  did  you  come 
and  live  here  ?  " 

"  What  else  were  we  to  do  ?  It  was  very  kind  of 
her  to  ask  us,  you  know.  Besides,  German  life  is  so 
easy  and  comfortable." 

That  was  Mrs.  Frere's  formula.  Meanwhile,  none 
of  the  ladies  had  ever  accomplished  a  toilet  under 
such  difficulties.  When  they  felt  a  little  less  dusty 
and  disheveled  they  went  into  the  adjoining  room, 
where  they  found  the  midday  breakfast  awaiting  them. 
It  consisted  of  coffee,  eggs,  rolls  and  butter,  and  it 
was  served  in  thick  white  earthenware,  placed,  without 
any  attempt  at  precision,  on  a  gray  linen  cloth.  The 
girls  liked  it  well  enough. 

"  What  time  do  you  have  dinner  ?  "  inquired  Mrs. 
Frere. 

"  When  it  is  cooked,"  said  her  sister-in-law. 

"  But  have  you  no  fixed  time  ?  " 

"  The  fixed  time  is  four,  but,  of  course,  if  the  dishes 
are  not  ready,  we  can't  eat  them  raw." 

Frau  Lange's  voice  sounded  slightly  stormy  again, 
as  she  answered  her  sister-in-law's  second  question. 
The  two  girls  looked  at  her  in  bewilderment.  How 
would  it  be  possible  to  live  with  anyone  who  took 
offense  at  everything  and  nothing  ?  The  prospect 


©rassboppers. 

appalled  them  already.  By  way  of  changing  the  sub- 
ject, Hilary  got  up  from  table  and  looked  out  of  the 
window  at  the  gardens  behind  the  house. 

"  Yours  ends  with  that  wall,  I  suppose,"  she  said  to 
her  aunt.  "  Whose  is  the  big  one  beyond  ? " 

"  Herr  Hansen's,"  said  Frau  Lange,  and  turning  to 
her  sister-in-law  she  added,  "  Hansen,  Bopp  & 
Rossler." 

"  Our  Herr  Hansen  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Frere.  "  O 
Hilary ! " 

"  What  ?  "  said  Frau  Lange. 

"  We  know  Herr  Hansen  very  well,"  explained 
Mrs.  Frere.  "  He  came  to  us  a  great  deal  when  he 
was  in  London.  I  did  not  know  he  had  a  house  out 
here." 

"  A  great  many  rich  people  live  here.  It  is  con- 
sidered  very  healthy." 

"  Do  you  know  Herr  Hansen  ? "  asked  Nell. 

"  Of  course  I  know  him.  He  is  my  landlord. 
Sometimes  he  comes  in  the  evening,  and  we  make 
music  together." 

"  Oh  !  do  you  play  ?  "  said  Hilary  with  interest. 

"  No.     I  listen." 

"  Does  he  know  we  are  here  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  I  have  not  told  him.  I  never  thought  that  you 
would  really  come.  When  I  got  your  letter  I  could 
not  believe  it.  Every  day  I  expected  you  to  write 
and  say  you  had  changed  your  mind.  Until  yesterday 
I  did  not  get  your  room  ready." 

"  But  you  seemed  so  anxious  to  have  us,"  said  Mrs. 
Frere,  rather  taken  aback. 

"  Yes,  one  writes  like  that.  One  has  a  sheet  of 
paper  to  fill,  and  it  is  so  difficult  to  compose  a  letter 
of  consolation.  After  all,  we  must  die,  too,  some  day. 
Why  make  such  a  fuss  ?  However,  we  shall  try,  now 
that  you  are  here,  to  live  together.  You  can  always 
go  back  to  England  if  you  do  not  like  it." 

The  girls  were  nearly  asleep  all  this  time,  and  they 
scandalized  their  aunt  a  good  deal  by  saying  that 
they  would  now  go  to  bed  for  a  few  hours.  She  had 


Impressions.  139 

never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  Bed  in  the  daytime  ! 
Young  girls  ought  not  to  know  what  fatigue  meant. 
It  showed  the  kind  of  life  they  had  led  in  London,  if, 
at  their  age,  they  were  so  feeble.  What  would  they 
do  when  they  came  to  be  fifty  ? 

"  This  is  very  exhausting,"  said  Nell,  as  she  lay 
down  on  one  of  the  three  little  bedsteads.  "  Does 
she  live  in  a  red-hot  rage  ? " 

"  She  has  had  a  sunstroke,  you  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Frere,  who  had  followed  her  daughters. 

"  I  wonder  what  she  was  like  before  it,"  said  Hilary. 

The  three  weary  women  slept  for  several  hours, 
half  roused  once  or  twice  by  the  slam  of  a  door,  or 
by  the  sound  of  Frau  Lange's  voice  in  altercation 
with  Auguste.  Their  hostess  was  evidently  having  a 
lively  afternoon,  and  at  six  o'clock,  without  any  cere- 
mony, she  dashed  into  their  room  in  a  state  of  wild 
excitement. 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  she  began.  "  You  see  that  I 
am  hot  and  tired,  do  you  not  ?  I  have  stood  over  the 
fire  ever  since  breakfast,  and  yet  it  is  not  ready. 
Can  you  believe  that  I  cut  all  the  beans  myself  ?  " 

"  What  is  the  matter  ? "  said  Mrs.  Frere,  only  half 
awake,  and  quite  alarmed. 

"  The  vegetables  are  not  cooked.  It  is  six  o'clock, 
and  at  seven  Herr  Hansen  will  come  and  try  my  new 
piano.  He  has  sent  in  a  note  to  say  so." 

"  Can't  we  dine  without  the  vegetables  ? "  asked 
Hilary. 

"  Oh  !  if  you  will.  There  is  plenty  of  cold  veal ; 
but  then  you  will  write  to  all  your  English  friends 
and  say  you  are  starved  in  Germany." 

But  somehow,  by  the  time  dinner  appeared,  the 
vegetables  were  cooked,  and  formed  the  main  part 
of  the  meal.  They  were  stewed  with  vinegar  and 
sugar,  and  Nell  did  not  like  them.  This  deeply 
offended  her  aunt,  who  said  she  could  not  afford  to 
send  to  London  for  a  cook.  If  her  niece  would  not 
put  up  with  burgherly  German  fare,  what  was  to  be 
done  ?  Perhaps  Nell  objected  to  raw  herrings  and 


I4°  Gbe  (Brassboppera. 

raw  ham  ?  two  everyday  Hamburg  dishes.  Nell  was 
discreet  enough  not  to  betray,  just  then,  that  she 
would  rather  go  hungry  than  touch  either  of  them. 

After  dinner  Frau  Lange  led  her  guests  downstairs 
to  the  "  best "  sitting  room.  She  got  rather  excited 
when  she  opened  the  door  and  found  that  Auguste 
had  lighted  the  lamps  without  special  permission  ; 
but  in  her  anxiety  to  display  the  glories  of  this  apart- 
ment, which  evidently  contained  the  treasures  of  her 
heart,  Auguste's  misconduct  for  once  went  unre- 
p  roved. 

There  was  first  a  good-sized  airy  room,  with  three 
large  double  doors,  occupying  a  considerable  portion 
of  the  wall  space.  One  of  these  was  always  set  open, 
and  it  led  into  a  second  smaller  room  on  the  south 
side  of  the  house.  The  walls  and  ceilings  were  cov- 
ered with  paper  imitating  panels  of  various  costly 
woods  ;  the  floors  were  parqueted  ;  the  furniture,  all 
made  to  match  and  of  a  florid  design  in  mahogany, 
was  upholstered  with  bright  magenta  reps.  In  each 
room  there  was  a  sofa  against  a  wall,  and  an  oval 
table  right  in  front  of  it.  On  both  tables  there  were 
a  few  illustrated  books  in  ornamental  bindings.  In 
each  room  there  was  a  white  porcelain  stove,  and  four 
straight,  narrow  windows  in  a  row,  blocked  by  imita- 
tion india-rubber  plants  and  palms.  There  was  a 
small  piece  of  carpet  at  the  foot  of  either  sofa,  and 
half  a  dozen  cheap  engravings  in  shiny  black  frames 
on  the  walls.  The  vases  were  in  pairs,  white,  pink, 
or  blue,  and  painted  with  flowers  that  in  this  world  do 
not  bloom  together.  Frau  Lange's  guests  thought 
everything  collected  there  looked  tawdry,  comfortless, 
and  antiquated.  They  did  not  know  what  to  say 
when  she  pointed  out  each  separate  attraction,  like  a 
guide  in  a  museum,  and  asked  them  whether  they 
would  ever  have  guessed  that  her  paneling  and  her 
palms  were  both  made  of  paper.  She  invited  Mrs. 
Frere  to  sit  beside  her  on  the  sofa  in  the  larger  of  the 
two  rooms.  The  two  girls  were  about  to  draw  for- 
ward chairs  for  themselves,  but  Frau  Lange  got  into 


first  Impressions.  141 

a  fluster  at  once,  and  explained  that  in  her  house  each 
chair  had  its  place,  and  must  not  be  moved  an  inch. 
She  would  not  like  Herr  Hansen  to  arrive  and  find 
the  room  in  disarray.  So  Hilary  and  Nell  sat  down 
with  their  backs  close  to  a  wall,  and  listened  while 
their  mother  fell  to  talking  to  her  sister-in-law  of  their 
troubles.  This  seemed  to  have  the  effect  of  an  opiate 
on  their  aunt.  She  began  to  nod. 

The  two  girls,  directly  they  thought  it  safe,  got  up 
and  slipped  out  of  the  room.  They  did  not  enjoy 
sitting  still  on  straight-backed  chairs,  with  nothing 
to  do  and  nothing  to  say,  like  children  in  disgrace. 
They  went  back  to  the  dining  room  on  the  top  floor. 
The  lamp  had  been  extinguished  here,  but  the  full 
moon  shone  in  at  the  window. 

"  Shall  we  walk  round  the  garden  ? "  said  Nell, 
looking  out.  "  It  is  quite  light  and  warm.  I  long 
for  some  fresh  air." 

Hilary  saw  no  possible  objection,  so  they  fetched 
their  cloaks  and  went  out.  They  soon  arrived  at  the 
end  of  the  little  garden,  which  even  by  moonlight 
looked  untidily  kept.  They  saw  a  few  fruit  trees  on 
the  patch  of  long  coarse  grass,  and  in  the  borders, 
flowers,  weeds,  and  kitchen  vegetables  growing  side 
by  side.  They  were  puzzled,  at  first,  by  a  sound  that 
seemed  to  come  from  a  distance,  and  made  itself  heard 
above  all  other  sounds  of  the  still  autumn  night. 

"  It  must  be  frogs,"  said  Hilary,  on  reflection. 
"  There  is  a  marsh  or  pond  somewhere  near,  and  it 
is  full  of  frogs." 

"  Let  us  look  for  it,"  said  Nell.  "  Here  is  a  door 
that  probably  leads  out  into  a  road." 

They  had  come  to  a  low  door  built  in  the  wall  at 
the  end  of  the  garden.  Nell  tried  to  open  it,  but  it 
stuck,  and  did  not  move  until  she  pushed  against  it 
with  her  whole  weight,  then  it  suddenly  flew  forward  ; 
if  she  had  not  clung  to  the  handle,  she  would  have 
been  thrown  to  the  ground.  As  it  was,  she  escaped 
with  a  grazed  elbow  and  a  precipitate  lurch  into  Herr 
Hansen's  garden.  He  stood  there,  staring  at  her  and 


at  Hilary,  as  if  he  expected  them  to  behave  like  appa- 
ritions, and  vanish  without  speaking. 

"  I  forgot  your  garden  might  be  behind  the  door," 
said  Nell  breathlessly,  as  soon  as  she  had  picked  her- 
self up.  "  We  wanted  to  find  the  frogs." 

"  Miss  Hilary  !  Miss  Nell  !  "  cried  the  astonished 
man.  "  It  is  really  you  !  In  Hamburg !  In  Frau 
Lange's  garden  !  Do  you  know  her,  then  ?  " 

"  She  is  our  aunt  by  marriage,"  explained  Hilary, 
holding  out  her  hand.  "  We  have  come  to  live  with 
her.  Didn't  she  tell  you  ?" 

"  She  told  me  she  expected  friends  from  England, 
but  she  did  not  mention  their  name,"  said  Herr  Han- 
sen.  He  did  not  add  that  when  he  last  saw  Frau 
Lange  she  had  bemoaned  the  arrival  of  three  pauper 
relatives,  and  at  the  same  time  asked  him  to  reduce 
the  rent  and  put  in  a  new  kitchen  boiler.  He  looked 
at  the  sisters  with  interest  and  compassion.  He  knew 
that  they  had  lost  their  father,  and  were  very  poor. 

"  But  when  you  were  in  London  did  none  of  us 
mention  Frau  Lange  ?  "  asked  Hilary. 

"  No." 

It  was  not  wonderful.  The  girls  had  almost  for- 
gotten her  existence  until  her  invitation  came,  and  Mrs. 
Frere  never  imagined  that  her  brother's  widow  would 
be  known  to  anyone  of  Herr  Hansen's  standing. 

"  And  she  never  spoke  of  us  to  you,  although  she 
knew  you  came  to  London  ?" 

"  I  hardly  see  Frau  Lange  twice  a  year,"  said  Herr 
Hansen.  "  Last  week  I  met  her  in  the  wood  near 
here,  and  she  asked  me  to  come  and  tell  her  whether 
she  has  given  too  much  money  for  her  new  piano. 
Before  that  I  had  not  seen  her  since  Christmas." 

"  She  expects  you  this  evening,"  observed  Nell, 
looking  at  his  costume.  Herr  Hansen  wore  a  gray 
alpaca  coat,  light  trousers,  a  red  silk  tie,  and  a 
Panama  hat.  "  I  am  on  my  way  there  now,"  he  said 
placidly.  "  I  little  thought  of  meeting  you.  It  is  a 
great  pleasure.  I  hope  that  you  like  living  in  Ger- 
many." 


fitet  Impressions.  143 

The  girls  explained  that  they  had  only  arrived  that 
morning,  and  had  been  asleep  all  the  afternoon. 
They  had  not  yet  tasted  German  life  to  the  dregs. 
As  he  accompanied  them  up  their  own  path,  they 
asked  him  whether  in  Germany  gardens  always  com- 
municated with  each  other,  and  he  assured  them  that 
it  was  quite  exceptional.  The  door  they  found  was 
one  made,  many  years  ago,  for  the  convenience  of 
his  grandmother,  who  used  to  live  in  Frau  Lange's 
house.  No  one  troubled  to  lock  it,  and  no  one  ever 
opened  it.  Herr  Hansen  hoped  that  the  young 
ladies  would  sometimes  walk  in  his  garden  now  and 
gather  his  flowers.  He  was  hardly  ever  there  him- 
self. He  preferred  Hamburg  all  through  the  autumn 
and  winter.  Nell  said  that  they  would  some  day  pur- 
sue their  search  for  the  frogs.  She  held  up  her  hand 
as  she  spoke,  and  asked  for  silence.  They  all  stood 
still  near  the  house  and  listened  to  the  chorus  of 
a  thousand  voices  croaking  to  the  night. 

"  I  wish  storks  came  to  Hamburg,"  said  Hilary 
dreamily.  "  My  picture  of  Germany  is  made  up  of 
storks  and  of  old  tumble-down  roofs  with  windows  in 
them  like  eyes,  and  of  narrow  streets  with  cobble- 
stones and  gutters.  It  is  a  shock  to  find  these  gim- 
crack  villas  here." 

They  went  back  into  the  house  and  upstairs,  where 
they  found  the  two  ladies  still  sitting  together  in 
a  dozy  condition.  But  Frau  Lange  roused  at  the 
sight  of  Herr  Hansen  coming  into  the  room  behind  her 
nieces.  She  did  not  look  at  all  pleased  when  she  heard 
how  they  had  already  met  outside  the  house.  She 
seemed  to  think  it  rather  improper  of  the  girls  to  have 
gone  into  the  garden  by  themselves,  and  she  reminded 
them,  with  emphasis,  that  they  were  not  in  England. 

Herr  Hansen  behaved  in  the  most  cordial  way  to 
Mrs.  Frere.  He  expressed  great  pleasure  at  seeing 
her  in  Hamburg,  and  fell  into  a  conversation  about 
various  Hamburg  families  formerly  known  to  her, 
people  he  still  counted  among  his  friends.  He  toKl 
her  of  their  shifting  fortunes — of  those  who  had  been 


144  Gbe  Grasshoppers. 

taken,  and  of  those  who  were  left.  He  said  that  she 
must  be  sure  and  call  on  her  old  friend,  Frau  Werner, 
who  had  several  charming  daughters  and  a  hospitable 
house.  He  inquired  after  several  of  the  people  he 
had  met  at  Mrs.  Frere's  dinner  table,  and,  in  short, 
put  questions  and  made  suggestions  indicative  of 
genuine  regard.  Frau  Lange  listened  with  ill-humor, 
and  made  various  attempts  to  divert  her  guest's 
attention.  At  last  she  got  up,  threw  back  the  lid  of 
her  cottage  piano,  and  invited  him  to  play. 

Herr  Hansen  rose  heavily  from  his  chair,  put  down 
his  Panama  hat,  and  went  to  the  piano.  He  struck 
a  few  preliminary  chords,  and  then  said  to  Hilary, 
"  What  shall  it  be  ?  Beethoven  ?  Schumann  ?  " 

Frau  Lange  was  standing  at  his  elbow,  and  she 
answered  in  her  niece's  stead. 

"  Play  what  you  please,  Herr  Hansen,"  she  said. 
"  We  know  nothing  of  music  ourselves.  We  shall 
enjoy  whatever  you  choose  to  give  us." 

"  Your  nieces  know  a  good  deal  about  music,"  he 
observed  dryly,  and  he  started  with  some  numbers 
from  Schumann's  "  Carnival."  He  chose  those  Hilary 
used  to  ask  for  over  and  over  again  at  home.  He 
ended  with  the  "  Davidsbiindler  "  march.  Then  he 
turned  to  Nell : 

"  Will  you  not  sing  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  my  piano  ?  "  said  Frau 
Lange  hastily.  "  I  consider  that  it  has  a  fine  tone. 
Of  course,  it  is  not  a  concert  grand,  but  we  are  not  all 
millionaires." 

Herr  Hansen's  fingers  wandered  lightly  over  the 
keys,  and  he  looked  ruefully  aside  at  a  distant  wall. 
Even  the  march  had  sounded  thin  and  wooden  on 
that  trumpery  instrument. 

"It  is  a  handsome  case,"  he  said  at  last.  "That 
is  a  new  way  of  fixing  the  candlesticks,  I  believe. 
Very  ingenious.  I  have  not  seen  it  before.  Yes. 
This  man  must  be  doing  a  good  business.  His 
pianos  are  advertised  everywhere.  Will  you  not 
sing  something,  Miss  Nell  ? " 


fffrst  Impressions.  *45 

"  English  music  is  trash,"  said  Frau  Lange  abruptly. 
"  How  can  you  ask  for  it,  Herr  Hansen  ?  Continue 
to  play  to  us,  I  beg." 

Herr  Hansen,  instead  of  complying  with  his 
hostess'  entreaty,  rose  from  the  piano  and  went  back 
to  his  seat  near  Mrs.  Frere.  Nell  had  naturally  made 
no  sign  in  response  to  an  invitation  on  which  her 
aunt  threw  such  exceedingly  cold  water.  Frau  Lange 
began  a  promenade  from  one  end  of  the  room  to  the 
other,  and  her  nieces  saw,  with  alarm,  that  her  face 
had  turned  crimson  again. 

"  I  hate  the  English,"  she  snapped  out  suddenly. 
Hilary  and  Nell  looked  at  each  other:  "  Wherever 
they  go  they  make  themselves  ridiculous." 

"Anyway,  they  manage  to  go  far,"  said  Nell. 

"  That  has  always  been  their  policy.  They  are  so 
selfish  and  greedy.  When  I  travel  I  avoid  an  Eng- 
lishman as  I  avoid  a  mad  dog.  The  sight  of  their 
clothes  is  enough.  No  one  likes  them,  their  manners 
are  so  bad." 

"  Germans  often  confuse  Americans  and  English," 
said  Mrs.  Frere,  in  a  peacemaking  voice.  Her  sister- 
in-law  turned  on  her  viciously. 

"  On  the  contrary,  when  we  see  people  behaving 
well  we  know  they  are  American.  As  to  English- 
women, all  they  can  do  is  to  read  novels  and  play 
'  crocket,'  while  their  households  go  to  rack  and 
ruin.  I  thank  Heaven  I  have  no  son  ;  he  might  want 
to  marry  one  and  break  my  heart !  " 

The  girls  could  not  help  smiling  at  this  unneces- 
sary burst  of  gratitude.  Herr  Hansen  muttered 
something  intended  as  a  sedative.  He  looked  very 
uncomfortable,  and  not  at  all  pleased.  He  did  not 
mind  finding  fault  with  the  English  cuisine  in  a  com- 
pany of  flourishing  English  people  uncommonly  well- 
satisfied  with  themselves,  but  he  would  have  died 
rather  than  say  anything  disparaging  of  their  country 
to  these  unhappy,  home-sick  women. 

The  arrival  of  Auguste  with  a  supper  tray  made  an 
agreeable  break  in  a  conversation  that  was  becoming 


<5ra00boppers. 

somewhat  strained.  The  supper  consisted  of  micro- 
scopic sandwiches  and  slender  bottles  of  Pilsener  beer. 
Everyone  gathered  round  the  table  to  partake  of  it, 
but  an  apparently  insurmountable  difficulty  arose  at 
once.  Hilary  and  Nell  did  not  drink  beer.  They 
asl.ed  for  water  instead.  Herr  Hansen  said  that 
Hamburg  water  was  not  particularly  good.  Frau 
Lange  contradicted  him.  She  had  never  heard  a 
word  said  against  it  before,  and  she  drank  it  unfiltered 
every  day,  and  considered  it  incomparably  better  than 
any  water  to  be  got  in  London. 

"Besides,"  she  went  on,  "in  my  opinion  beer  is 
more  wholesome  and  proper  for  a  young  girl  than 
hot  brandy  and  water."  The  girls  stared  at  her 
uncomprehendingly. 

"  No  Englishwoman  would  dream  of  going  to  bed 
without  a  glass  of  hot  brandy  and  water." 

"  Where  have  you  studied  our  customs,  Aunt 
Bertha?"  said  Hilary,  laughing.  "You  did  not  see 
us  drinking  brandy  and  water  when  you  were  in 
London." 

"  My  sister  was  governess  in  England  for  years. 
She  knows  English  society  thoroughly.  All  the  ladies 
there  drink  spirits  at  night.  It  is  the  climate.  My 
sister  did  it,  too." 

" I  dare  say,"  said  Hilary  politely,  "but  I  assure 
you  it  is  not  an  universal  custom.  I  have  never 
seen  it  done," 

"  My  sister  lived  ten  years  in  England.  Every 
night  the  spirits  were  brought  up,  and  the  whole 
family  drank  them  with  hot  water  and  sugar  and 
lemons.  I  have  never  met  anyone  who  knew  Eng- 
land as  well  as  my  sister." 

Hilary  and  Nell  looked  at  each  other.  Mrs.  Frere 
sighed.  Herr  Hansen  said  good- night. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

AN    AFTERNOON   CALL. 

THE  early  breakfast,  consisting  of  coffee  and  small 
rolls,  was  served  at  eight  o'clock.  Hilary  and  Nell 
liked  it  better  than  the  other  meals,  which  came  at 
haphazard  times,  and  were  often  uneatable — that  is, 
they  liked  it  as  long  as  they  were  allowed  fresh  rolls. 
But  they  were  hungry  every  morning  and  ate  a  good 
many,  so  their  aunt  soon  hit  on  the  expedient  of  pro- 
viding stale  ones.  It  was  a  brilliant  idea.  Without 
butter  the  girls  hardly  managed  one  apiece. 

The  second  breakfast  was  eaten  at  midday.  At 
this  meal  Frau  Lange  and  her  guests  shared  two 
hard-boiled  eggs,  minced  small,  and  a  good-sized 
pot  of  weak  tea.  The  girls  used  to  get  uncomfort- 
ably hungry  before  dinner  time.  Frau  Lange  said 
Englishwomen  were  even  greedier  than  her  sister 
had  described  them.  On  Sundays  there  was  always 
a  joint  of  roast  beef  for  dinner.  Hilary  and  Nell 
quite  looked  forward  to  Sundays,  but  their  aunt 
carved,  and  she  had  to  be  careful,  or  the  joint  would 
not  have  lasted  long  enough.  She  never  bought 
more  than  one  joint  in  seven  days.  Toward  the  end 
of  the  week  strange  messes  were  dished  up  at  dinner 
time.  Coarse  soups  made  of  beer,  or  milk,  or  com- 
mon fruit ;  cheap  vegetables  smothered  in  sugar  and 
vinegar  ;  salads  mixed  with  raw  herrings  ;  great  slabs 
of  tasteless  curd  ;  stirabout  not  unlike  English 
porridge — a  plentiful  supply,  in  short,  of  what  the 
girls  and  their  mother  could  hardly  eat,  while  the 
plain  roast  meat  for  which  they  hungered  was  always 
lacking.  At  first  the  sisters  treated  the  diet  as  a  joke  ; 
ate  what  they  could,  went  empty  now  and  then, 


i 48  ftbe  6rassbopper0. 

foraged  for  themselves  as  long  as  they  had  a  penny 
in  their  purses  ;  but  even  while  they  made  merry  they 
grew  thin  and  colorless.  It  wrung  their  mother's 
heart  to  see  the  roses  vanish  and  the  hollows  in  their 
cheeks  become  deeper. 

"  I  am  home-sick  for  an  English  leg  of  mutton," 
said  Nell  one  morning,  when  they  were  waiting  for 
their  aunt  to  come  in  to  the  second  breakfast. 

"  Don't  talk  of  one,"  said  Hilary.  "  You'll  make 
me  cry." 

The  table  was  spread,  as  usual,  with  a  soiled  cloth, 
a  black  japanned  bread-basket  full  of  stale  rolls,  a 
small  pat  of  butter,  and  thick  white  cups  and  plates. 
Presently  Frau  Lange  appeared,  still  in  her  dressing 
gown  and  the  morning-cap  that  covered  her  unbrushed 
hair.  She  was  followed  by  Auguste,  carrying  the  tea 
and  the  dish  of  minced  egg. 

"  Eggs  are  getting  very  dear,"  she  said,  when 
Auguste  had  departed.  "They  are  a  halfpenny 
each." 

"  We  should  call  that  very  cheap  in  England,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere. 

You  would  not  expect  that  remark  to  be  a  signal 
for  a  storm,  but  it  was.  Frau  Lange  burst  into  a 
lengthy  defense  of  her  housekeeping,  accompanied 
by  many  allusions  to  the  high  current  prices  and  the 
expense  of  supporting  three  hungry  guests. 

"I  wish  you  would  let  us  pay  for  our  board, 
Bertha,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  "  I  did  not  like  to  suggest 
it  when  you  invited  us " 

"  How  you  harp  on  that  invitation  ! "  interrupted 
Frau  Lange.  "  /  don't  call  it  good  manners  to  tie 
persons  down  to  their  words  in  that  way.  Of  course, 
if  you  have  an  impulsive,  generous  heart  you  have  to 
pay  for  it.  I  have  often  found  that  out.  I  cannot  be 
cold,  and  hard,  and  calculating  as  you  are  in  England. 
I  wish  I  could." 

"You  should  take  example  by  us,  Aunt  Bertha," 
said  Nell. 

Her  mother  sent  her  a  warning  glance,  and  said 


Bn  afternoon  Call.  149 

again  that  she  would  be  glad  to  pay  their  own 
expenses.  Her  sister-in-law  must  fix  on  a  sum. 

"You  don't  suppose  I  want  to  make  a  profit  on 
you  ? "  shrieked  Frau  Lange.  "  You  have  no  idea 
how  expensive  everything  is  in  Hamburg,  and  how 
Auguste  takes  advantage  of  your  being  here.  She  is 
so  dreadfully  extravagant.  Yesterday  I  had  to  buy 
pepper  again,  and  she  says  your  piece  of  soap  is  used 
up  directly,  and  then  there  is  the  blacking  for  your 
boots.  We  use  the  best  blacking." 

"  There's  nothing  mean  about  me,"  said  Nell,  sotto 
voce. 

"It  is  not  only  the  food,  you  see,"  continued  her 
aunt ;  "and  if  you  think  I  am  a  rich  woman  you  are 
quite  mistaken.  I  am  very  good-hearted,  and  when 
you  said  you  were  without  a  home  I  offered  you  one 
directly,  but  you  cannot  expect  me  to  ruin  myself  on 
your  behalf." 

You  may  imagine  that  the  Freres  did  not  enjoy  this 
kind  of  discussion.  Mrs.  Frere  immediately  arranged 
to  pay  her  sister-in-law  a  weekly  sum  that  would 
sound  small  in  English  ears,  but  which,  judged  by  the 
German  standard,  was  not  insufficient.  They  ought 
to  have  had  good  plain  food  for  it,  but  Frau  Lange's 
niggardly  ways  grew  worse  instead  of  better  as  time 
went  on.  The  spirit  of  the  man  who  reduced  his 
horse  to  the  last  straw  evidently  inspired  her.  She 
could  never  stint  and  save  quite  enough,  and  when 
her  guests  thought  they  had  reached  the  limits  of  her 
parsimony  she  would  still  spring  some  fresh  surprise 
on  them.  As  the  severe  cold  of  a  German  winter 
overtook  them  they  began  to  surfer  a  good  deal.  Of 
course,  they  often  considered  the  possibility  of  bid- 
ding their  hostess  good-by;  but  the  lack  of  ready 
money,  the  greater  price  of  any  other  establishment, 
chained  them  where  they  were.  If  it  was  nasty,  it 
was  cheap  ;  and  with  their  pockets  empty,  they  were 
driven  to  make  cheapness  paramount. 

What  Hilary  felt  most  of  all  was  the  want  of  some 
corner  that  she  could  call  her  own.  The  Greek  play 


6ra00boppcr0. 

got  on  very  slowly.  With  her  aunt's  squabbles  in  her 
ears  she  could  not  weigh  words  and  turn  phrases. 
The  upstairs  sitting  room  was  always  noisy  and  close, 
and  when  she  fled  to  the  bedroom  her  mother  would 
fidget  in  and  out  with  that  disregard  for  a  young  per- 
son's wishes  so  often  shown  by  elderly  people.  She 
liked  Hilary's  company,  and  she  had  no  belief  in  her 
ambitions.  Besides,  when  winter  really  came,  it  dis- 
tressed Mrs.  Frere  to  see  the  child  poring  over  books, 
with  a  fur  cloak  on  her  shoulders  and  the  temperature 
two  degrees  below  freezing  point. 

"  You  have  been  in  three  times  since  breakfast,  and 
it  is  only  one  o'clock  now,"  said  Hilary,  one  bitterly 
cold  November  day. 

"  Really,  Hilary,  I  must  be  allowed  to  come  into 
my  own  bedroom.  I  need  not  disturb  you.  Just  let 
me  get  to  that  table  behind  your  chair.  I  want  the 
white  darning  cotton.  Why  do  you  load  up  the  table 
with  books  in  this  way?  We  did  not  buy  it  for  that 
purpose.  You  can't  want  six  books  at  once.  I 
should  think  that  a  person  who  read  with  any  system 
would  finish  one  book  before  she  began  another.  I 
know  I  was  taught  to  do  so.  I  see  you  have  two 
dictionaries  open.  How  can  anyone  want  to  find  a 
word  in  two  dictionaries?  Dear  me,  Hilary,  look  at 
the  thermometer  !  You  will  kill  yourself,  if  you  stay 
here.  Why  don't  you  take  one  of  your  books  into  the 
sitting  room  and  read  there  ?  I  am  sure  no  one  would 
speak  to  you  if  you  asked  them  not  to." 

"  I  cannot  read  there,  mamma,"  said  Hilary.  "  You 
talk  to  me,  and  Aunt  Bertha  scolds,  and  Nell  plays 
scales." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  don't  know  why  you  should  shut 
yourself  up  with  your  books.  It  gives  your  aunt  such 
a  bad  opinion  of  you.  She  thinks  you  are  so  idle, 
you  know.  Nell  has  embroidered  a  table-cloth  since 
she  came,  but  what  have  you  done  ?  I  believe  Bertha 
would  be  glad  if  you  both  helped  more  in  the  house  ; 
she  gives  hints  to  that  effect.  She  says  that  when  she 
was  a  girl  she  did  all  the  ironing,  and  she  has  just 


an  afternoon  Call.  15* 

brought  in  an  immense  heap  of  house  linen.  Some  of 
it  is  only  rags,  and  she  declares  that  it  must  all  be 
mended.  I  have  offered  to  help,  but  fine  darning 
tries  my  eyes,  especially  at  night  when  that  horrid 
flickering  lamp  is  lighted." 

"  I  cannot  darn,"  said  Hilary.  "  If  I  tried,  Aunt 
Bertha  would  probably  throw  it  at  me,  as  she  did  the 
burned  cake  at  Auguste  the  other  day." 

"  I  wonder  if  there  is  anything  you  can  do,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere  reflectively,  and  without  a  suspicion  that 
her  words  might  give  pain.  "  Your  education  was 
very  expensive,  but  it  doesn't  seem  to  have  been  much 
use." 

"  Just  what  I  say  to  myself  every  day,"  answered 
Hilary,  with  some  bitterness.  "  I  might  get  a  place  as 
governess  in  England,  but  you  don't  like  to  hear  of 
that." 

41  Let  us  go  into  Hamburg  this  afternoon  and  pay 
some  calls,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  4<  There  are  several 
people  I  have  not  looked  up  yet." 

She  always  turned  the  subject  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible when  Hilary  spoke  of  separating  from  her  and 
going  back  to  England.  She  knew  how  home-sick 
the  girls  were,  but  she  clung  to  their  company.  She 
could  not  have  faced  the  empty,  joyless  days  without 
them. 

In  spite  of  what  Mrs.  Frere  had  said  to  Mrs.  Theo- 
dore, she  had  expected  to  step  straight  back  into  her 
old  surroundings,  but,  of  course,  the  disappointments 
that  a  wiser  woman  would  have  foreseen  awaited  her. 
The  elders  she  remembered  with  affection  had  jour- 
neyed on  ;  she  heard  of  her  contemporaries  living 
with  children  and  grandchildren  in  distant  towns  ;  to 
the  young  folks  she  was  hardly  a  name.  According 
to  the  German  custom  it  fell  on  her,  as  the  newcomer, 
to  take  the  initiative — to  seek  out  those  who  were 
likely  to  receive  her  with  a  welcome.  They  were  few 
and  far  between,  and  in  some  cases  the  girls  thought 
the  welcome  hardly  came  off  successfully.  After  a 
decorous  interval  her  visits  were  returned,  and  there 


(Brassboppers. 

communication  seemed  to  stop.  Mrs.  Frere  was  hurt 
and  astonished.  How  many  sons  and  daughters  of 
Hamburg  had  she  not  hospitably  entertained  beneath 
her  husband's  roof  ?  It  took  months  to  convince  her 
that  such  benefits  are  easily  forgot.  In  reality,  her 
experience  was  one  common  to  people  without  much 
knowledge  of  character.  Those  of  whom  she  deserved 
and  expected  most  held  back,  while  the  two  or  three 
people  who  showed  her  kindness,  she  had  hardly 
reckoned  in  her  list  of  persons  likely  to  befriend  them. 
Herr  Hansen  she  could  not  judge  yet.  He  had  been 
obliged  to  leave  Hamburg  on  a  business  journey  soon 
after  their  arrival,  and  he  was  still  away.  Frau  Lange 
seemed  to  know  no  one,  although  she  had  been  living 
in  her  present  home  for  five  years.  Her  complete 
isolation  on  the  outskirts  of  that  big,  crowded  city 
was  most  striking.  No  one  ever  called  ;  she  had  no 
visits  to  pay  ;  no  man,  woman,  or  child  ever  broke 
bread  within  her  doors.  This  state  of  things  was,  of 
course,  partly  her  own  fault.  In  the  neighborhood 
she  passed  for  a  semi-lunatic  of  miserly  habits  and 
violent  temper.  No  one  sought  her  acquaintance.  In 
Hamburg  itself  she  had  never  crossed  a  private  thresh- 
old. Her  lonely  social  position  was  a  source  of 
much  discontent,  and  yet  she  took  no  sensible  steps 
to  better  it.  She  railed  at  the  wicked  world  ;  she 
resented  imaginary  slights  ;  she  hated  several  persons 
who  were  hardly  conscious  of  her  existence,  but  these 
very  common  manifestations  of  an  evil  temper  did 
nothing  to  mend  matters.  She  had  expected  Mrs. 
Frere's  friends  to  hold  out  their  hands  to  her,  but 
they  did  not  do  so.  Most  of  them  only  had  a  finger 
to  spare  for  Mrs.  Frere.  Hamburg  society  is  provin- 
cially  exclusive.  It  does  not  like  foreigners  ;  it  shakes 
its  head  at  artists  ;  on  actors  it  turns  its  substantial 
back.  What  it  likes  is  solid,  well-to-do,  long-estab- 
lished business  men.  Its  aristocracy  is  mercantile, 
and  you  will  find  that  your  most  distinguished  friends 
there  are  on  visiting  terms  with  the  leading  shop- 
keepers and  their  wives.  It  is  the  center  of  the  world, 


Bn  afternoon  Call.  153 

and  only  condescends  to  follow  even  Paris  fashions 
at  a  distance,  and  with  modifications  of  its  own.  It 
considers  Paris  frivolous,  London  dreary,  and  Berlin 
impertinent.  Hamburg  is  never  uneasy  about  itself. 
It  is  never  on  the  alert,  like  a  French  or  an  English 
provincial  town,  lest  any  ill-bred  person  should  allude 
to  its  geographical  position  in  the  provinces.  Its  con- 
ceit of  itself  is  immense,  and  in  some  degree  justifi- 
able. It  really  is  a  pleasant  town  ;  and  the  most 
respected  artists  there  are  the  cooks. 

The  modern  part  of  Hamburg  is  built  round  the 
basin  of  the  Alster,  a  large,  bright  lake,  one  of  the 
chief  highroads  for  passenger  traffic.  Little  steam- 
boats ply  to  and  fro  all  day,  and  in  summer  they  are 
crowded.  From  their  decks  you  see  the  front  of 
Hamburg,  row  upon  row  of  large  new  white  houses, 
very  handsome,  very  expensive,  very  dull.  The  most 
flourishing  shops  and  the  well-to-do  private  houses 
face  the  water  ;  but  here  and  there  in  the  great  city 
you  may  still  find  tumble-down  picturesque  old 
shanties,  survivals  from  the  great  fire  of  1842.  Some 
still  surround  the  market  places,  some  topple  toward 
the  canals,  some  shut  in  lanes  so  narrow  that  you  may 
lean  out  of  an  upper  floor  window  and  kiss  your 
opposite  neighbor  at  hers.  The  poorer  folk  herd 
under  these  gabled  roofs  and  at  the  docks  to  west- 
ward, while  far  down  the  Elbe,  toward  the  sea,  Ham- 
burg's merchant  princes  have  set  their  pleasure  houses 
amid  splendid  gardens  and  English-looking  parks. 

Mrs.  Frere  and  Hilary  were  going  to  call,  for  the 
first  time,  on  the  Frau  Werner  of  whom  Herr  Hansen 
had  spoken,  and  who  had  received  Dick  Lorimer  so 
hospitably.  The  Werners  lived  on  the  Jungfernstieg, 
where  shops,  hotels,  and  private  houses  stand  side  by 
side.  It  is  the  Piccadilly  of  Hamburg,  and  only 
wealthy  men  can  afford  to  live  there  ;  but  the  Werners 
were  very  wealthy.  They  had  just  returned  to  Ham- 
burg for  the  winter,  after  an  autumn  spent  in  Switzer- 
land and  Italy.  Frau  Werner  and  Mrs.  Frere  were 


*54  Gbe  (Srassboppers. 

old  friends,  but  they  had  neither  met  nor  corresponded 
of  late  years. 

"  I  have  not  seen  Anna  since  she  was  married,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere  as  she  went  upstairs  to  her  friend's  flat, 
which  was  on  the  first  floor. 

In  spite  of  this  reminder,  Hilary  received  a  slight 
shock  when  she  followed  her  mother  into  the  room. 
The  picture  she  had  formed  from  Mrs.  Frere's  reminis- 
cences was  of  a  young  apple-cheeked  girl  always  in 
the  highest  spirits,  and  ready  for  any  fun.  A  short, 
stout,  gray-haired  matron  got  up  to  meet  them,  with  a 
stiff  courtesy  and  a  look  of  surprise.  It  was  not  until 
Mrs.  Frere  spoke  that  her  manner  began  to  thaw. 

"Helena  Lange  ! "  she  cried,  addressing  her  old 
acquaintance  by  her  maiden  name.  "  You  have 
altered  so  that  I  did  not  know  you  ;  but  I  suppose 
you  can  say  that  to  me,  too  ?  " 

Mrs.  Frere  thought  in  her  own  mind  that  her  friend 
was,  if  anything,  less  well  preserved  than  she  was  her- 
self ;  but  then,  she  reflected,  Anna  had  always  been 
plain  and  had  never  known  it.  Anna  used  to  be  like- 
able but  tiresome,  because  all  her  geese  were  swans, 
and  they  formed  her  only  topic  of  conversation.  Mrs. 
Frere  soon  had  an  opportunity  of  discovering  that,  in 
this  respect,  her  friend  had  not  altered  much.  At 
first  Frau  Werner  surveyed  her  guests  with  inquiring, 
friendly  eyes,  took  their  measure  as  well  as  she  could, 
and  asked  them  a  good  many  questions  about  their 
recent  history  and  their  motives  for  coming  to  Ham- 
burg. She  did  not  ask  questions  that  were  difficult  to 
answer.  Her  interest  in  them  was  quite  genuine  and 
friendly,  but  it  takes  both  time  and  knowledge  to 
bridge  the  gap  made  by  thirty  years. 

"  You  have  two  daughters,  Helena,  only  two  ?  I 
have  five — all  beautiful.  Heaven  has  blessed  me  in 
my  children.  I  must  show  you  the  photograph  they 
had  taken  secretly  for  my  last  birthday.  It  is  only 
my  children  who  have  such  delightful  ideas.  Here 
it  is — the  five  daughters,  the  three  sons,  the  two  sons- 
in-law,  and  the  grandchildren.  That  is  one  son-in- 


Bn  afternoon  Call.  155 

law.  He  is  the  handsomest  man  in  Hamburg,  except- 
ing my  husband.  That  is  the  other.  He  is  the 
cleverest  doctor  in  the  town.  Two  of  my  daughters 
are  still  at  school,  but  Olga  is  only  a  little  younger 
than  you,  my  dear  Hilary.  Do  you  sing  ?  Olga  has 
the  most  wonderful  soprano  voice.  Perhaps  you  can 
sing  duets  with  her  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  voice,"  confessed  Hilary. 

"  What  a  pity !  Perhaps  you  are  very  domestic. 
In  that  case  you  must  know  my  Martha,  who  was 
married  this  summer.  I  miss  her  terribly.  She  knew 
every  dinner  napkin  in  my  possession,  and  I  have  a 
hundred  dozen  ;  and  she  did  all  the  mending.  Some 
day  I  will  show  you  the  dusters  she  darned  last  win- 
ter. It  is  like  lace,  so  fine.  She  has  had  to  wear 
spectacles  ever  since,  poor  child.  You  must  bring 
both  your  daughters  next  time,  Helena.  Will  you 
join  our  family  dinner  next  Sunday  ?  then  you  will 
see  us  all  except  Kurt,  who  is  at  Tubingen.  We  sit 
down  twenty  ever  week,  because  the  grandchildren 
come,  and  Fritz  Hansen  when  he  is  in  Hamburg. 
You  know  him  ?  When  he  came  back  from  London, 
this  spring,  he  told  us  he  had  been  often  at  your  house." 

While  Hilary  listened  she  looked  about  her.  She 
was  glad  to  correct  her  idea  of  German  family  life  by 
a  peep  at  a  home  so  unlike  the  sordid  one  in  which 
she  lived.  The  windows  in  this  room  faced  the 
Alster,  and  the  fine,  well-cared-for  palms  that  grew  in 
front  of  them  were  not  made  of  paper.  Close  to  some 
of  the  windows  were  seats,  and  in  the  most  comfort- 
able corner,  near  the  light,  stood  Frau  Werner's  work- 
table  and  her  special  chair.  She  could  put  down  her 
embroidery  and  look  straight  out  across  the  great  lake 
at  the  sailing-boats  in  summer,  at  the  skaters  in  win- 
ter, at  the  twinkling,  distant  lights  every  evening  after 
dark.  The  furniture  and  decorations  of  the  room 
were  in  no  way  artistic,  but  everything  was  solid, 
comfortable,  and  well  kept.  The  inevitable  sofa,  with 
the  table  right  in  front  of  it,  occupied  the  largest 
space  of  wall ;  an  ugly  carpet  of  good  quality  covered 


is6  Gbe  <3rassbopper0. 

the  floor  ;  none  of  the  knickknacks  was  tawdry  ;  the 
engravings  were  valuable.  In  a  little  room,  only 
separated  from  this  one  by  a  half-drawn  portiere, 
Hilary  got  a  glimpse  of  a  superb  landscape  in  oils. 
Of  course,  these  people  had  money,  but  their  home 
did  not  proclaim  that  fact  at  all  loudly.  This  room, 
at  any  rate,  was  rather  quaint  and  old-fashioned.  It 
reminded  Hilary  of  German  pictures,  in  which  all  the 
furniture  looks  heavy  and  out  of  date  ;  but  she  could 
fancy  that  an  orderly,  flourishing  family  had  spent 
year  upon  year  here. 

"Your  daughters  must  be  very  fond  of  fancy-work," 
said  Mrs.  Frere,  looking  at  the  endless  specimens  of 
elaborate  embroidery  everywhere  on  view. 

"  They  all  excel  in  it,"  said  Frau  Werner  proudly. 
"  See,  on  my  last  birthday,  they  gave  me  these."  She 
pulled  a  handkerchief  out  of  her  pocket,  made  of  fine 
linen,  but  which  the  English  girl,  with  her  scrap  of 
cambric,  thought  big  enough  for  a  towel  and  thick 
enough  for  a  sheet.  In  one  corner  there  was  a  large 
elaborate  monogram. 

"The  four  elder  ones  each  did  three,"  continued 
Frau  Werner.  "  Can  you  embroider  ?  But  why 
should  I  ask  ?  Undoubtedly  you  can." 

"  No,"  said  Hilary,  "  I  don't  care  much  for  fancy- 
work." 

"But,  my  dear  child,"  exclaimed  Frau  Werner, 
evidently  scandalized,  "  what  do  you  do  all  day  ?  " 

"  Hilary  reads  Greek,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

"What  good  does  that  do  her?"  inquired  Frau 
Werner.  Perhaps  she  saw  that  she  had  asked  a  ques- 
tion not  very  easily  answered  ;  at  any  rate,  she  went 
on  rather  hurriedly  to  another  subject. 

"  So  you  have  really  given  up  your  house  in  Lon- 
don !  That  surprises  me.  Well,  we  both  have 
daughters,  and  you  know  what  I  mean — one  has 
wishes  for  them.  Hitherto  my  hopes  have  been 
singularly  blessed.  Emma's  husband  we  met  at 
Norderney.  The  first  time  I  saw  him  I  said  to  my- 
self, '  Such  a  one  could  I  wish  for  a  son-in-law,'  and 


Hn  Hfternoon  Call.  157 

before  we  left  they  were  engaged.  A  very  respect- 
able old-established  firm,  you  know.  With  the  boys 
I£am  in  no  hurry,  but  a  girl  should  marry  before  she  is 
twenty.  Martha's  marriage  was  also  a  sudden  affair. 
None  of  my  children  has  ever  given  me  a  moment's 
uneasiness.  This  summer,  it  is  true,  my  little  Olga 
lost  her  heart ;  but  it  may  still  come  right,  and  I 
notice  that  she  eats  her  dinner  as  usual.  If  it  is  not 
that  one,  it  will  be  another.  We  are  all  in  the  hands 
of  Providence." 

Hilary  looked  out  of  the  window.  It  was  snowing 
slightly,  and  getting  rapidly  dark.  In  a  minute  or 
so  they  must  leave  this  well-warmed  room,  trudge 
through  the  half-frozen  slush  to  a  tramcar,  and  drive 
back  in  the  cold  to  Aunt  Bertha's  miserable  dinner- 
table.  She  wished  Frau  Werner  would  give  them  a 
cup  of  tea  ;  but  Mrs.  Frere  got  up  now,  and  said  that 
it  was  impossible  for  them  to  wait  until  Olga  came 
back  ;  they  must  get  home  in  good  time  and  they 
would  look  forward  to  seeing  all  Frau  Werner's  chil- 
dren on  Sunday  at  five  o'clock. 

Directly  they  got  downstairs  Mrs.  Frere  complained 
of  being  both  cold  and  hungry.  She  said  that  before 
going  on  they  would  get  a  cup  of  coffee  at  a  confec- 
tioner's shop  on  the  Neuer  Wall,  already  well  known 
to  them.  Hilary  was  nothing  loath,  although  the  cost 
of  it  weighed  on  her  mind  ;  but  she  generally  felt 
half  starved  nowadays,  and  the  idea  of  a  dainty  little 
meal  tempted  her  sorely.  There  would  be  nothing 
tempting  ready  for  them  at  home,  and  the  minced 
eggs  served  for  the  midday  breakfast  had  been  as 
highly  flavored  as  a  glass  of  Harrogate  water.  The 
ladies  had  only  eaten  a  little  stale  bread  and  butter. 

If  you  think  a  first-rate  Hamburg  confectioner 
fills  his  windows  with  muffins  and  raspberry  puffs  you 
stand  in  need  of  wider  views.  A  foreign  confectioner 
sells  cakes  that  tempt  people  to  eat  them.  One  can- 
not imagine  anyone  over  the  age  of  twelve  buying 
British  buns  and  tartlets  with  any  expectation  of 
enjoyment.  In  a  Hamburg  shop,  if  you  are  not  hun. 


is8  Cbe  <5ra0sboppet0. 

gry,  you  thank  Heaven  you  are  greedy,  and  fall  to. 
Mrs.  Frere  and  Hilary  ordered  coffee  and  Mandel- 
torte,  an  ambrosial  cake  filled  up  with  cream,  that 
tastes  of  nuts  and  is  colored  like  heliotrope  ;  but  Mrs. 
Frere  looked  preoccupied. 

"  I  wonder  what  Fritz  Werner  is  like,"  she  said 
reflectively.  "  He  must  be  thirty." 

"  He  was  in  that  photograph,"  said  Hilary.  "  A 
little  fat  man  with  mutton-chop  whiskers  and  potato 
nose.  Frau  Werner  pointed  him  out.  She  said, 
'This  is  my  Fritz.  He  is  considered  very  distin- 
guished-looking.' " 

"  I  am  rather  sorry  I  said  anything  about  your 
knowing  Greek.  I  have  been  in  England  so  long  I 
have  quite  forgotten  the  German  point  of  view.  I  am 
afraid  Ahna  may  think  it  must  affect  your  house- 
keeping, and,  of  course,  in  a  sense  she  would  be  right. 
You  never  darned  my  dusters  so  that  the  holes  looked 
like  lace." 

"  I  should  think  not." 

"  I  dare  say  Martha  Werner  would  have  been  quite 
pleased  to  mend  all  that  linen  for  Aunt  Bertha.  I 
hope  Nell  has  sat  down  to  it  this  afternoon.  Do  you 
think  she  can  put  in  a  patch  so  that  no  one  can  see  it  ? " 

Hilary  said  she  thought  it  more  likely  that  a  gar- 
ment in  which  Nell  had  put  a  patch  would  be  recog- 
nized a  mile  away.  Neither  her  sister  nor  she  had 
ever  been  taught  these  fine  devices.  They  had  never 
attempted  to  darn  a  stocking  until  they  came  to  Ger- 
many, and  they  had  not  yet  managed  even  that 
successfully. 

"  It  is  very  hard,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  "  In  England 
people  want  girls  to  be  pretty,  and  well-dressed, 
and  healthy." 

Hilary  understood  the  implication  underlying  her 
mother's  plaint.  It  is  very  trying  to  bring  your 
daughters  well  up  to  the  standard  of  one  marriage 
market,  and  then  have  them  thrust  into  a  foreign 
one,  where  quite  a  different  set  of  qualities  is  in 
demand. 


Bn  afternoon  Call.  159 

"  You  ought  to  have  some  lessons  in  cooking  and 
darning,"  continued  Mrs.  Frere.  "  I  wonder  what 
they  would  cost  ? " 

Hilary's  attention  was  just  then  diverted  by  the 
sound  of  a  voice  well  known  to  her,  and  she  turned 
her  head  to  see  Herr  Hansen  buying  bonbons  at  the 
counter.  As  she  did  so  he  looked  her  way,  recog- 
nized her,  and  came  up  to  their  little  table.  He  had 
only  just  come  back  from  St.  Petersburg,  he  said. 
The  Werners  expected  him  to  dinner  next  Sunday, 
and  he  could  not  appear  there  after  a  journey  with- 
out bonbons  for  his  godchild,  their  youngest  girl. 
He  hoped  Mrs.  Frere  and  her  daughters  were  well. 
Had  they  come  to  town  altogether,  or  were  they  still 
staying  with  Frau  Lange?  Where  was  Miss  Nell  ? 

"  She  could  not  spare  the  time  to  come,"  said  Mrs. 
Frere,  "  she  was  so  busy  darning  linen  for  her  aunt." 

Herr  Hansen  looked  rather  surprised. 

"  That  does  not  sound  like  Miss  Nell,"  he  said. 

"  My  daughters  are  very  domestic,"  replied  Mrs. 
Frere.  "  We  do  not  talk  about  it  quite  so  much  as 
you  do  in  Germany.  In  England  we  think  it  rather 
absurd  to  make  a  fuss  of  what  must  be  done  as  a 
matter  of  course.  We  were  just  saying  how  interest- 
ing it  would  be  to  have  lessons  here  in  cooking  and 
sewing.  Then  the  girls  could  judge  for  themselves 
which  style  was  superior." 

"  You  must  not  make  us  out  more  accomplished 
than  we  are,"  said  Hilary. 

"  That  would  be  difficult,"  said  Herr  Hansen. 

Mrs.  Frere  looked  delighted. 

"  When  are  you  coming  to  see  us  again,  Herr  Han- 
sen ? "  she  said. 

He  hesitated. 

"  You  are  still  with  Frau  Lange  ? "  he  observed, 
and  then,  without  answering  Mrs.  Frere's  question 
more  definitely,  he  put  his  bag  of  bonbons  into 
Hilary's  lap. 

"  I  will  send  them  to  the  young  lady  who  is  at 
home  darning,"  he  said,  lifted  his  hat,  shook  hands 


160  abe  <5rassboppet0, 


cordially,  and  edged  away  to  the  counter,  where  he 
bought  a  second  supply  of  bonbons  before  leaving 
the  shop. 

When  Mrs.  Frere  and  her  daughter  reached  home 
they  went  straight  to  their  own  bedroom.  There 
they  found  Nell  wrapped  in  eider-downs,  and  reading 
a  novel. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  what  have  you  been  doing  all  the 
afternoon  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  Oh  !  Aunt  Bertha  asked  me  to  help  her  mend 
that  house  linen." 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  triumphantly  to 
her  elder  daughter.  "Look  at  that  great  bag  of  bon- 
bons, Nell.  Someone  sent  them  to  you  because  you 
stayed  at  home  to  help  your  aunt." 

"  Who  sent  them  ?  "  asked  Nell  quickly.  "  They 
are  very  good  ones,"  she  added,  as  she  dipped  into 
the  bag. 

"  It  was  Herr  Hansen,"  said  Hilary,  who  knew 
her  sister  would  look  disappointed  when  she  heard 
this  name  instead  of  the  one  forever  uppermost  in 
her  mind.  "  How  much  darning  did  you  do,  Nell  ?  " 

"  One  pillow-slip." 

"  Really,  good  darning  takes  a  long  time,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere.  "  Was  Aunt  Bertha  pleased  ?  " 

"  She  threw  it  at  my  head,  and  yelled  at  me. 
What  would  you  darn  a  linen  pillow-slip  with, 
mamma  ?  " 

"  Fine  linen  thread,  of  course." 

"  I  did  it  with  crochet  cotton.  She  says  it  will 
take  her  all  the  evening  to  unpick.  She  wouldn't 
trust  me  with  it  again." 

"  I  felt  sure  we  were  taking  those  bonbons  on  false 
pretenses,"  said  Hilary,  with  her  hand  in  the  bag. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    FAMILY    PARTY. 

THE  girls  did  not  know  how  to  dress  for  the  dinner 
on  Sunday,  and  their  mother's  advice  only  bewildered 
them.  She  said  that  when  she  was  a  girl  no  one  wore 
a  low-necked  gown  except  at  a  ball,  but  that  even  in 
Hamburg  customs  changed.  She  would  advise  them 
to  wear  their  best  white  summer  frocks,  only  she 
knew  the  Werners  would  be  shocked  if  they  appeared 
in  anything  but  black.  Germans  were  most  particular 
about  mourning.  They  laughed  at  the  English 
custom  of  putting  it  on  for  second  cousins  twice 
removed,  and  they  did  not  wear  as  much  crape  as 
those  elderly  females  to  be  met  in  any  London  omni- 
bus, but  they  would  think  very  little  of  a  girl  who 
doffed  her  black  merino  before  her  father  had  been 
dead  a  year. 

"  Must  it  literally  be  merino  ?  "  asked  Nell.  "  If  it 
must,  we  cannot  go  at  all.  The  only  black  gowns  we 
possess  are  these  serges  we  wear  every  day  and  the 
lace  ones  we  had  made  in  the  spring." 

"  They  are  cut  low,  and  have  no  sleeves,"  objected 
Hilary,  for  in  those  days  sleeves  in  evening  gowns 
had  been  temporarily  abolished. 

"  I  am  sure  you  need  not  be  ashamed  of  your  neck 
and  arms,"  said  her  mother. 

"But  we  want  to  dress  suitably,"  said  Hilary. 
"  Don't  you  think  Aunt  Bertha  would  know  ? " 

"  Certainly  not.     She  is  not  in  Hamburg  society." 

"Then  she  probably  knows  all  about  it,"  said  Nell. 
"  Isn't  there  a  penny  society  paper  here  ?  We  might 
afford  a  penny  if  we  could  find  out  how  the  senators' 
wives  dress  when  they  eat  each  other's  Kalbsbraten. 


1 62  Sbe  <5rassboppets. 

Don't  they  tell  you  anywhere  here  that  Frau  Bummel- 
hausen  looked  very  handsome  in  an  exclusive  gown  of 
carrot-colored  brocade  ? " 

"  No,  they  don't,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  with  a  sigh,  as 
if,  even  in  this,  she  found  Hamburg  a  little  behind  the 
times. 

Hilary  reminded  her  mother  that  if  they  must  wear 
black  they  must  choose  between  the  serge  gowns  and 
the  lace  ones.  Nell  said  that  settled  it.  She  was  not 
going  to  face  twenty  people  with  a  patched  sleeve. 

Mrs.  Frere  felt  divided  between  her  desire  to  see 
the  girls  in  evening  frocks  again  and  her  doubts  of 
such  raiment  being  correct  on  this  occasion.  But 
when  they  were  dressed  they  looked  so  charming  that 
she  would  not,  for  the  world,  have  altered  a  ribbon 
end.  Only,  as  they  put  on  their  hats  and  long  warm 
cloaks,  she  said  nervously,  "  I  hope  it  is  all  right. 
What  will  you  do  if  every  other  woman  in  the  room 
has  on  a  high  stuff  gown  ?" 

"  Oh  !  we  shall  bear  it  for  once,  and  know  better 
next  time,"  said  Nell. 

Mrs.  Frere  felt  that  her  children  did  not  take  the 
present  hour  quite  as  seriously  as  it  deserved.  She 
had  told  them  a  great  deal  about  the  Werners 
and  their  important  social  position,  but  Hilary  had 
hardly  listened,  and  Nell  had  wondered  whether  all 
the  men  would  tuck  their  napkins  into  their  waistcoats 
and  eat  with  their  knives  like  Herr  Hansen.  In  imi- 
tation of  that  well-bred  prince  who  poured  his  tea  into 
the  saucer  when  his  guest  did,  she  had  even  gone  so 
far  as  to  practice  eating  with  her  knife  ;  but  she  found 
that  it  was  not  a  habit  to  be  adopted  at  a  moment's 
notice.  It  was  more  difficult  to  manage  than  a  fork. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  Werners'  flat  they  were 
not  taken  to  a  dressing  room,  but  merely  assisted  to 
hang  their  cloaks  on  a  hat-stand  close  to  the  outside 
door.  They  were  then  shown  into  the  sitting  room 
they  had  seen  when  they  called.  The  lamps  were 
lighted  now,  and  the  twenty  family  guests  assembled. 
Even  before  the  door  shut  behind  them,  while  they 


S  tfamtlB  parts.  163 


walked  toward  their  hostess,  Mrs.  Frere  and  her 
daughters  saw  that  the  low-necked,  sleeveless  gowns 
were  wrong,  hopelessly  wrong.  Frau  Werner  wore  a 
plain  short  winter  walking  dress  of  some  woolen 
material,  a  large  gold  brooch,  linen  collar,  cuffs,  and 
two  gold  bracelets,  broad  enough  for  a  waist-band. 
All  the  other  ladies  present  were  dressed  in  the  same 
style,  and  the  men  wore  tight  black  frock-coats,  fancy 
trousers,  and  colored  ties.  Perhaps  the  two  English 
girls  were  unjust,  but  they  both  protested  afterward 
that  two  foreigners  who  came  to  an  English  dinner 
in  morning  dress  would  not  have  been  stared  at  as 
they  were  all  the  evening.  If  they  had  worn  tar  and 
feathers  the  company  could  hardly  have  looked  more 
surprised.  Directly  the  first  buzz  of  greeting  and 
introduction  was  over  Mrs.  Frere,  who  had  been  led 
to  a  place  of  honor  beside  her  hostess  on  the  sofa, 
said  in  a  tone  of  apology,  "  In  England,  you  know,  we 
dress  like  that  every  evening." 

"  Hamburg  is  not  England,"  said  Frau  Werner. 
"  We  have  our  own  ways." 

Mrs.  Frere  was  just  going  to  explain  that  in  thirty 
years  of  exile  her  memory  of  Hamburg  ways  had  grown 
rusty,  but  before  she  could  speak  Frau  Werner  had 
risen  to  greet  another  guest.  Herr  Hansen  came 
in,  and  was  received  by  everyone  with  enthusiasm. 
Hilary  could  not  help  reflecting,  as  she  watched  his 
progress  through  the  room,  that  fate  had  funnily 
turned  the  tables.  To-day  she  felt  ridiculously 
dressed,  unknown,  stumbling  in  speech,  and  of  little 
consequence,  while  Herr  Hansen's  clothes  looked  like 
other  people's,  his  language  was  the  common  one,  his 
presence  regarded  as  an  honor,  his  manner  easy  and 
natural. 

When  dinner  was  announced  everyone  went  in  any- 
how, the  elders  first,  the  young  ones  in  their  train. 
Mrs.  Frere  was  invited  to  take  a  seat  near  Herr  Werner, 
a  good-humored  little  man,  with  a  figure  that  had  not 
been  improved  by  fifty-six  years  of  fat  living.  On  his 
other  side  sat  his  wife.  The  older  and  more  important 


1 64  Gbe  (Srassboppets. 

guests  all  found  places  at  the  upper  end  of  the  table, 
while  the  young  daughters  of  the  house,  the  grand- 
children, and  their  nursery  governesses  sat  at  the 
bottom,  nearer  to  the  door.  Hilary  found  herself 
between  Olga  Werner,  the  unmarried  daughter  of 
eighteen,  and  a  young  man,  who  was  introduced  as 
Herr  Kapp,  and  described  as  the  brother  of  Frau 
Werner's  eldest  son-in-law. 

The  room  was  long  and  narrow,  like  the  dining  room 
in  a  Swiss  hotel.  It  contained  no  furniture  but  a 
narrow  table,  chairs,  and  a  side-board,  on  which  Hilary 
saw  three  brass  coffee  machines,  as  bright  as  if  they 
had  been  bought  yesterday.  The  table  linen  was  very 
fine,  and  embroidered  with  huge  monograms ;  the 
silver  was  all  real  and  massive.  Everything  looked 
spick  and  span,  and  yet,  considering  that  the  Werners 
were  wealthy,  curiously  bare  and  rough.  On  that 
endless  length  of  table  the  only  decoration  was  one 
vase  of  artificial  flowers,  a  large  glass  dish  of  apple 
sauce,  and  several  bottles  of  hock.  Before  each  guest 
there  was  a  roll,  a  napkin  folded  flat  as  it  had  come 
from  the  wash,  two  or  three  wineglasses,  and  a  knife 
and  fork  pitched  on  the  cloth  crosswise,  without  pre- 
cision. There  were  two  waiting  maids  present  in 
spotless  short-sleeved  cotton  gowns  and  white  caps. 
Hilary  thought  them  rather  unnecessary  at  first,  for 
she  found  that  Frau  Werner's  guests  waited  mainly  on 
themselves.  Herr  Werner  dispensed  the  soup,  and 
plates  of  it  were  passed  along  from  one  to  the  other. 
Then  a  fillet  of  beef  arrived,  and  when  the  host  had 
cut  the  whole  of  it  into  slices  he  put  a  choice  one  on 
Mrs.  Frere's  plate,  a  second  on  his  wife's,  a  third  on 
his  own  ;  after  that  the  dish  of  meat,  with  accessory 
dishes  of  vegetables  and  salad,  wandered  step  by  step 
right  round  the  table  till  it  arrived,  almost  empty,  at 
the  top  again.  The  maids  seemed  to  do  nothing  but 
change  the  plates,  and  hand  round  pickles  and  preserves 
at  unexpected  moments.  For  instance,  when  Hilary 
had  just  helped  herself  to  the  wing  of  a  roast  fowl, 
she  saw  a  tray  at  her  shoulder  with  several  small  glass 


H  jfamflB  part^.  165 

dishes  on  it,  and  the  one  nearest  to  her  contained  a 
turned-out  pot  of  marmalade. 

"  But  that  is  English,"  said  Olga  Werner  in  surprise, 
when  her  neighbor  let  it  pass. 

"  Yes,"  said  Hilary,  "  we  eat  it  for  breakfast  with 
toast." 

"  What  a  horrible  custom,"  said  the  girl,  and  she 
took  a  large  spoonful  and  ate  it  directly  she  had  finished 
her  fowl. 

So  Hilary  learned  her  lesson.  Contempt  for  any 
habit  that  is  "  foreign  "  is  a  game  that  two  can  play  at. 
Therefore,  when  the  cheese  came  round,  and  after  it  a 
sweet  rich  pudding,  she  partook  of  both,  and  was 
thankful.  Some  of  her  neighbors  were  rather  shocked 
when  they  saw  her  eat  cheese,  but  they  were  not  sur- 
prised. Frau  Werner  had  confided  to  her  daughters 
that  she  feared  Helena's  children  were  "  emancipated." 

Hilary  and  Nell  both  understood  German,  and  they 
listened  with  interest  to  the  conversation,  which  was 
almost  entirely  about  the  food  and  wine.  The  women 
present  took  no  conspicuous  share  in  it.  Hilary  had 
expected  her  neighbor,  Herr  Kapp,  to  make  some 
effort  to  entertain  her,  but  he  did  nothing  of  the  kind. 
He  ate  a  Gargantuan  dinner,  and  addressed  himself 
between  the  courses  to  Herr  Hansen  opposite.  Once 
or  twice  he  threw  a  remark  to  the  young  English- 
woman, as  unwise  people  throw  a  scrap  to  a  dog  who 
begs  from  them  at  table,  but  when  Hilary  showed  a 
disposition  to  enlarge  upon  what  he  said  he  seemed  to 
think  her  rather  importunate,  as  the  unwise  people 
think  the  dog  when  he  begs  for  more.  He  asked 
Hilary  whether  she  had  seen  much  of  Hamburg  yet, 
said  it  was  a  pity  when  she  replied  that  she  had  not, 
and  immediately  plunged  into  a  strife  raging  just  then 
among  the  men  folk  as  to  who  purveyed  the  best 
oysters  in  the  city.  A  little  later  he  asked  her  whether 
she  often  went  to  the  theater,  was  caught  before  she 
could  speak  by  the  general  excitement  about  the 
arrival  of  some  fine  old  Madeira,  and  when  this  flagged, 
turned  back  to  her  and  inquired  where  she  usually  sat 


1 66  abe  <3ra0sbopper0. 

in  the  theater.  By  this  time  Hilary  had  averted  her 
head,  and  was  trying  to  make  friends  with  Olga 
Werner.  She  heard  Herr  Kapp's  question,  but  she 
did  not  trouble  to  answer  it.  She  felt  sure  he  would 
not  listen  because  Herr  Hansen  was  describing  the 
excellent  midday  breakfast  he  had  eaten  one  Sunday 
in  August  at  Blankenese.  No  ghost  story  would  have 
held  his  audience  so  enthralled. 

Olga  Werner  was  just  such  a  fair-haired,  apple- 
cheeked  girl  as  her  mother  must  have  been  thirty-five 
years  ago,  when  Mrs.Frere  and  she  were  confirmed 
on  the  same  day.  She  had  a  friendly,  healthy  young 
face,  but  no  one  except  her  mother  could  have  called 
her  a  beauty.  Beside  Hilary  she  looked  clumsy  in 
make  and  gesture,  and  empty-eyed.  She  seemed  to 
have  no  idea  of  playing  hostess  by  proxy  to  her 
foreign  guest.  When  Hilary  addressed  her  she 
answered  amiably,  but  with  as  few  words  as  possible. 
When  Hilary  let  her  alone  she  chattered  and  giggled  to 
a  schoolgirl  cousin  on  her  other  side.  Nell  was  much 
better  off  than  her  sister.  She  sat  next  to  Herr  Han- 
sen,  and  stirred  him  up  until  he  talked  to  her.  She 
assured  him  that  she  had  learned  to  eat  with  her 
knife  ;  she  asked  him  when  he  was  coming  to  play  on 
her  aunt's  piano  again  ;  she  thanked  him  for  the  bon- 
bons, and  confessed,  without  contrition,  that  she  had 
not  earned  them.  After  dinner  she  promised  to  sing, 
if  he  would  accompany  her.  Herr  Hansen  looked 
quite  pleased,  and  said  he  hoped  that  now  Nell  and 
her  sister  were  in  Germany  they  would  acquire  pro- 
ficiency in  those  domestic  arts  that  became  their  sex 
better  than  profound  learning.  He  made  the  whole 
of  this  remark  without  taking  breath. 

Hilary  watched  her  sister  with  amusement.  Nell 
could  never  resist  the  temptation  to  charm,  and  she 
usually  succeeded.  Herr  Hansen  evidently  thought 
her  an  agreeable  young  person.  When  everyone  got 
up  from  the  table  and  went  back  to  the  drawing  room 
he  remained  at  her  side.  Coffee  was  served  almost 
immediately,  and  most  of  the  men  present  lit  cigars. 


a  ffamflB  parts.  167 


"  The  German  fashion  is  more  comfortable  than 
yours,"  said  Herr  Hansen,  helping  himself  from  a  box 
offered  by  Herr  Werner's  youngest  son.  "  Here  we 
are  all  together,  and  we  men  may  smoke  as  much  as 
we  like." 

"  Delightful  !  "  said  Nell,  who  had  a  delicate  throat, 
and  knew  that  ten  minutes  later  she  would  not  be 
able  to  sing  a  note. 

"  You  smile.     You  do  not  agree  with  me." 

"  I  should  if  I  might  smoke  too,"  said  Nell.  "  Have 
you  a  cigarette  ?  " 

The  redoubtable  Martha,  the  lady  who  darned  the 
dusters,  heard  Nell's  question,  and  felt  driven  to 
interfere.  She  was  a  solid,  phlegmatic  looking 
creature,  dressed  in  black  silk. 

"  If  my  mother  heard  you,  Fraulein,  she  would  be 
shocked,"  she  said. 

Nell's  eyes  gleamed  with  mischief.  She  had  never 
really  attempted  to  smoke,  but  she  would  not  admit 
as  much  to  this  solemn  young  woman. 

"  Don't  you  smoke  ?  "  she  began  innocently,  but 
Frau  Martha  made  a  gesture  of  denial  that  was  almost 
a  bounce  in  her  chair.  "  But  you  do  in  Vienna," 
added  Nell. 

"  I  know  nothing  about  Vienna,"  said  Martha 
stiffly.  "When  we  are  not  in  Hamburg  we  are  in 
Holstein.  We  do  not  vagabond  about  the  world  and 
pick  up  strange  habits.  In  Hamburg  a  woman  who 
smokes  is  not  considered  respectable." 

"  It  was  so  in  England  less  than  fifty  years  ago," 
said  Nell.  "  I  never  understand  why.  If  it  is  a 
pleasant  habit,  why  do  we  let  the  men  keep  it  all  to 
themselves  ?" 

Frau  Martha's  eyes  grew  rounder  and  rounder,  and 
she  moved  slightly,  as  if,  thought  Nell,  she  felt 
inclined  to  gather  her  skirts  together  and  flee  from 
such  a  neighborhood  ;  but  Herr  Hansen  had  listened 
to  this  little  skirmish  with  signs  of  impatience  and 
distress.  As  soon  as  he  could  get  in  a  word,  he 
ingeniously  persuaded  Nell  to  confess  that  neither 


1 68  tTbe  (Braeeboppers, 

her  sister  nor  she  smoked,  and  that  it  was  not  usual 
yet  for  young  girls  to  do  so,  even  in  England.  He 
fully  agreed  with  Frau  Martha  in  her  reprobation  of 
the  habit — for  women,  and  he  looked  pleased  when 
Nell  made  her  peace  by  saying  she  supposed  tobacco, 
like  many  other  good  things,  was  meant  by  nature  to 
be  monopolized  by  men.  After  this  the  conversation 
proceeded  very  smoothly.  Herr  Hansen  was  called 
away  by  his  host  to  a  game  of  Skat,  but  Hilary  and 
Olga  came  near,  and  perhaps  it  was  Hilary's  reputa- 
tion as  a  classical  scholar  that  suggested  reminis- 
cences of  learned  and  "  emancipated  "  women.  Olga, 
who  had  been  in  Switzerland  and  Italy  that  autumn, 
told  a  traveler's  tale  of  a  Russian  lady  doctor  who 
was  suspected  of  wearing  real  trousers  under  her 
skirts,  but  neither  her  married  sister  nor  she  grew 
animated  until  they  heard  that  Hilary  had  actually 
been  at  a  university — like  a  man.  Then  they  had  a 
great  deal  to  say  in  condemnation  of  such  a  prac- 
tice. But  as  they  derived  their  pictures  of  university 
life  from  what  they  knew  of  German  "  corps  "  stu- 
dents, Hilary  naturally  had  a  good  deal  to  say  too — 
in  refutation.  She  assured  Frau  Martha  that  the 
girls  at  St.  Cyprian's  did  not  have  beer  orgies  or  duel- 
ing bouts,  nor  did  they  rampage  up  and  down  the 
university  streets  in  noisy  gangs,  with  wolf  hounds  at 
their  heels.  Frau  Martha  only  half  believed  her. 
She  said  she  had  lately  read  an  English  novel,  in  which 
these  college  girls  were  shown  up  as  an  uncommonly 
bad  lot.  Hilary  said  that  no  set  of  people  could  wholly 
guard  themselves  from  the  tongues  of  the  ignorant  and 
the  slanderous,  but  she  thought  the  foundations  of  St. 
Cyprian's  were  strong  enough  to  resist  the  attacks 
made  in  one  or  two  silly  novels  ;  and  she  took  some 
pains  to  describe  the  studious,  orderly  life  of  the  place, 
the  care  taken  for  the  health  and  comfort  of  the  girls 
there,  and  the  pleasant  comradeship  that  existed 
among  them. 

"  I  like  English  people,"  said  Olga  Werner. 

"  Yes,  I  know  you  do,"  said  her  sister. 


B  Tamils  parts.  169 

Hilary  and  Nell  both  felt  that  a  good  deal  more 
was  implied  by  these  insignificant  remarks  than  met 
the  ear,  but  they  received  no  further  light  on  them 
until  much  later  in  the  evening. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Frere  had  been  invited  by  her 
hostess  to  the  small  inner  room,  where  the  two  matrons 
settled  down  together  for  a  comfortable  chat.  No 
one  followed  them,  and  Frau  Werner,  before  taking 
her  seat  on  the  sofa,  shut  the  portieres.  Mrs.  Frere 
felt  rather  sorry  for  this,  as  it  hid  her  children  from 
view.  She  liked  to  see  what  they  were  doing,  to 
watch  their  faces,  to  compare  them,  to  their  great 
advantage,  with  everyone  else  in  the  world. 

"  Well,  Anna,"  she  said  very  soon,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  my  girls  ?  " 

"  They  seem  very  highly  educated,"  replied  Frau 
Werner,  with  a  slight  air  of  evasion  that  did  not 
escape  her  friend. 

"  In  London  they  were  considered  pretty,"  she  said, 
with  a  sigh. 

"  An  artist  in  our  hotel  at  Nice  wished  to  paint 
Olga's  portrait,  but  I  would  not  permit  it.  Would 
you?" 

"  It  depends,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  vaguely.  "  There  is 
an  English  picture  called  '  The  Golden  Stairs,'  and 
Hilary  might  have  sat  for  one  of  the  girls  in  it.  Have 
you  ever  heard  of  Burne  Jones  ?" 

"  No.  We  patronize  German  artists.  My  husband 
is  very  patriotic.  He  will  not  even  read  an  English 
book.  He  says  we  ought  to  encourage  home  indus- 
tries. I  will  show  you  the  picture  behind  us  after- 
ward. It  is  by  a  Dusseldorf  man,  and  considered 
very  fine.  I  don't  care  for  it  myself,  because  the  girl 
looks  melancholy.  I  like  cheerful  things  about  me. 
Life  is  so  full  of  real  troubles.  Besides,  her  cloak  is 
a  red  that  no  one  with  any  taste  would  wear,  but  the 
painting  is  very  well  done." 

"  Have  you  troubles  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Frere.  "  You 
seem  so  happy  and  prosperous — so  different  from 
me." 


<3rassbopper0. 

"  Providence  has  done  very  well  for  me,  on  the 
whole,"  admitted  Frau  Werner,  in  a  tone  of  self-con- 
gratulation. "  Our  children  have  all  lived,  and  are  a 
constant  source  of  pride  and  pleasure  to  us.  My  hus- 
band's work  has  been  blessed  from  the  beginning  ; 
but  no  mother  can  lie  down  at  night  with  an  easy 
mind  until  all  her  daughters  are  married.  You  see 
there  is  Olga  ready,  and  Greta  coming  on." 

"  I  think  a  great  deal  about  my  girls,  too,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere,  who  heard  a  note  of  reproach  in  Anna's 
voice. 

"  It  is  not  enough  to  think  about  it.  It  is  a 
mother's  duty  to  act  for  her  children.  I  may  say, 
without  vanity,  that  neither  of  my  elder  girls  would 
have  married  their  present  husbands  if  I  had  not 
made  the  matches." 

"  But  how  do  you  set  about  it  ? "  inquired  Mrs. 
Frere. 

Frau  Werner  smiled,  and  set  down  her  coffee-cup. 

"  From  an  old  friend  I  need  have  no  secrets,"  she 
replied.  "  Besides,  it  has  probably  occurred  to  you — 
you  will  have  observed  that  we  receive  Fritz  Hansen 
as  one  of  ourselves." 

"  But  he  is  a  great  deal  older  than  Olga,"  objected 
Mrs.  Frere,  as  if  there  had  been  twenty  instead  of 
two  years'  difference  between  Olga  and  her  own 
child. 

"  I  have  no  objection  to  that,"  said  Frau  Werner. 

"  But  is  anything  settled  ?  Has  he  proposed  for 
Olga  ? " 

"  No.  Last  winter  Olga  was  still  at  school,  and 
since  then  we  have  been  a  great  deal  away  from  home. 
I  should  not  speak  of  my  hopes  to  anyone  but  you." 

Mrs.  Frere  could  not  refrain  from  saying,  "  Of 
course  not,  in  case  they  fail." 

"  I  have  never  failed,"  said  Frau  Werner.  "  My 
daughters  are  so  beautiful,  and  their  father  is  so 
generous,  the  young  men  run  after  them.  The  only 
difficulty  in  this  case  comes  from  Olga  herself.  When 
we  were  here  in  July — that  young  Mr.  Lorimer — you 


B  Tamils  parts.  *7l 

know  him,  of  course Well,  he  came  in  and  out  of 

the  house  a  great  deal.  I  was  very  busy  at  the  time. 
The  strawberries  were  ripe  and  had  to  be  preserved, 
and  our  yearly  wash  was  just  over.  You  can  imagine 
what  I  had  to  count,  and  mend,  and  put  away.  You 
have  seen  twenty-three  clean  napkins  on  the  table  to- 
day ;  that  mounts  up  at  the  end  of  a  year.  And,  in 
some  respects,  all  men  are  born  blind.  Her  father 
never  told  me  she  had  taken  a  fancy  to  this  young 
Englishman  until  two  days  before  he  left.  I  said  at 
once,  '  If  she  likes  him,  and  you  know  that  his  business 
is  good,  let  her  have  him.'  Des  Menschens  Wille  ist 
stin  Himmelreich.  At  the  same  time,  I  am  not  fond 
of  foreigners,  and  I  hope  no  child  of  mine  will  ever 
live  in  a  country  where  the  mistress  of  the  house  is 
afraid  to  enter  her  own  kitchen." 

"  But  did  he  propose  to  her  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Frere 
again. 

"  No,"  said  Frau  Werner.  "  I  don't  know  why  he 
hesitated." 

"  He  may  be  attracted  elsewhere,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Frere,  who  wished  that  she  might  astonish  her  friend 
by  telling  her  that  both  men  had  proposed  to  Hilary 
and  been  rejected  ;  but  she  felt  some  delicacy  about 
doing  this,  and  also  some  doubts  as  to  whether  she 
would  be  believed. 

"  Have  you  looked  at  Olga  ? "  was  Frau  Werner's 
simple  and  final  reply. 

Mrs.  Frere's  thoughts  wandered  sadly  to  her  own 
dear  children. 

"  I  sometimes  wish  we  had  stayed  in  London,"  she 
said.  "  My  girls  are  entirely  cut  off  from  their  old 
friends  here." 

"  I  am  always  so  sorry  for  girls  who  lose  their  posi- 
tion just  when  they  are  of  an  age  to  marry,"  said 
Frau  Werner.  "  You  must  be  sorry  you  did  not 
establish  them  while  you  still  had  the  chance." 

"  But  they  are  very  young  still,"  answered  Mrs. 
Frere.  "  I  have  not  exactly  made  up  my  mind  that 
they  will  be  old  maids." 


"  I'm  sure  I  wish  you  good  luck  with  them,"  said 
Frau  Werner. 

Mrs.  Frere  felt  deeply  depressed.  Her  friend 
seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  Hilary  and  Nell 
were  doomed  to  celibacy  by  their  loss  of  fortune. 
She  talked  as  if  they  were  no  longer  on  the  lists,  as  if 
she  did  not  think  of  them  as  possible  rivals  to  Olga  ; 
and  her  tone  was  matter  of  fact,  devoid  of  uneasiness 
or  malice.  Mrs.  Frere  could  not  flatter  herself  that 
Frau  Werner  meant  anything  but  just  what  she  said. 

"  Hilary  would  like  to  find  work  here,"  she  began, 
after  a  pause.  "  Do  you  think  there  is  any  chance 
of  it?" 

"  I  thought  she  disliked  work,  and  could  not  do  it." 

"  I  was  not  thinking  of  embroidery,"  said  Mrs. 
Frere. 

Frau  Werner  shook  her  head. 

"  No  one  in  Germany  wants  a  girl  who  cannot 
make  herself  useful.  My  eldest  daughter,  Anna,  tried 
an  Englishwoman  for  her  children,  and  it  was  the 
greatest  failure.  She  wanted  a  cold  bath  every  day, 
and  objected  to  her  bedroom  because  it  had  no  out- 
side window  ;  and  when  everyone  in  the  house  was 
ironing  or  dressmaking  she  would  sit  with  her  arms 
folded  and  never  offer  to  help." 

"  I  should  not  like  Hilary  to  sleep  in  a  room  with- 
out an  outside  window,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  "  A  room 
like  that  is  only  fit  for  boxes  or  books." 

"  It  is  not  at  all  fit  for  books,"  said  Frau  Werner. 
"  My  son-in-law  tried  it  for  his.  They  got  moldy." 

At  this  point  the  ladies  were  interrupted  by  sounds 
proceeding  from  the  larger  room  that  were  familiar 
to  Mrs.  Frere,  but  not  to  her  hostess. 

"  It  is  Nell  tuning  her  banjo,"  she  said.  "  She 
thought  you  would  like  to  hear  her  sing  to  it." 

Frau  Werner  did  not  look  much  enlightened,  but 
she  got  up  and  pulled  back  the  portieres,  and  then 
Mrs.  Frere  received  some  compensation  for  the  bitter 
moments  she  had  spent  since  dinner.  She  saw  Nell 
sitting  in  the  center  of  the  room,  the  cynosure  of  all 


a  ffamile  parts.  *73 

eyes.  Herr  Hansen,  with  the  look  of  an  anxious 
showman,  stood  just  behind  the  girl's  chair,  but  when 
she  began  to  sing  his  expression  of  anxiety  gradually 
gave  way  to  a  well-satisfied  smile.  He  nodded  in 
time,  and  seemed  as  proud  as  if  he  had  pulled  the 
pretty  performer  out  of  his  pocket.  She  sang  one  or 
two  nigger  melodies,  quaint,  lively,  tender,  and  quite 
unknown  to  her  present  audience.  Everyone  ap- 
plauded and  asked  for  more. 

"  It  is  amusing,"  said  Frau  Martha  stiffly,  "  but  it 
is  not  Beethoven." 

"  Martha  always  makes  such  clever  criticisms," 
whispered  Frau  Werner  fondly  to  her  friend.  "She 
has  a  very  clear  head." 

The  elder  ladies  had  advanced,  and  now  made  part 
of  Nell's  audience.  Mrs.  Frere  looked  about  for  her 
other  daughter,  without  success  at  first,  but  presently 
she  saw  Hilary  half-hidden  by  a  window-curtain,  near 
no  one,  and  with  her  back  to  the  room.  When  Nell 
had  finished  her  second  song  Olga  Werner  sat  down 
to  the  piano,  and  with  praiseworthy  patience  played  a 
sonata  of  Mozart's  from  beginning  to  end.  If  Herr 
Hansen  had  played  it,  everyone  would  have  listened 
in  delight,  but  the  child  had  no  music  in  her.  Her 
touch  was  heavy  ;  her  time  dragged  ;  she  played  with 
effort  and  without  understanding.  Her  mother  and 
sisters  listened  in  placid  contentment.  Other  people 
were  visibly  bored.  Mrs.  Frere  in  the  middle  of  the 
third  movement  could  sit  still  no  longer  ;  she  got  up 
and  joined  Hilary  in  her  window  niche.  Behind  the 
heavy  curtain  they  could  whisper  a  word  or  two 
unheard. 

"It  is  such  a  pity  you  don't  play  or  sing,"  began 
Mrs.  Frere.  "  Don't  you  think  you  could  recite  a 
poem  or  something  ?  " 

"What  for?" 

"  Well,  to  make  a  good  impression.  What  use  is  it 
to  stand  here  and  stare  across  the  Alster  ?  That 
does  not  show  people  how  intelligent  you  are." 

"J   should    like    to   sail  about  on  the  Alster  all 


174  Cbe  ©rassboppers. 

through  a  summer  day,"  said  the  girl  dreamily.  Her 
mother's  reproaches  never  vexed  or  disturbed  her. 
They  were  made  in  such  good  faith,  and  with  such  an 
affectionate  air. 

"  If  you  had  settled  in  Hamburg,  you  might  have 
had  a  sailing  boat  of  your  own,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

Hilary's  smile  was  rather  a  pitiful  one  in  answer  to 
this  remark. 

"  I  wish  Frau  Werner  would  help  me  to  get  some 
teaching,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh.  "  I  want  money  for 
new  boots.  Did  you  ask  her  about  it  ?  " 

"  I  mentioned  it,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  ;  "  but  don't  be 
in  any  hurry,  Hilary.  It  will  not  hurt  you  to  teach  a 
little  when  the  spring  comes.  In  this  weather  you 
would  only  catch  cold." 

All  through  the  rest  of  the  evening,  and  on  her 
way  home,  Mrs.  Frere  assured  herself  that  she  would 
not  say  a  word  to  her  daughters  of  Frau  Werner's 
matchmaking  plans.  It  would  be  a  breach  of  confi- 
dence, and,  besides,  it  is  not  right  to  speak  expressly 
of  such  matters  to  young  girls  ;  but  as  they  all  three 
brushed  their  hair  and  talked  over  the  events  of  the 
day,  Mrs.  Frere's  remarks  were  so  full  of  sudden 
halts  and  palpable  evasions  that  her  daughters  at  last 
felt  invited  to  take  some  notice  of  them. 

"  Speak  up,"  said  Nell  ;  "  you  know  you  won't 
sleep  till  you  have  told  us.  Why  will  Olga  Werner 
not  be  able  to  have  English  lessons  from  Hilary  after 
Christmas  ?  " 

"  She  will  be  too  busy,"  replied  Mrs.  Frere,  in  an 
oracular  tone. 

"I  suppose  you  mean  she  is  going  to  be  married," 
said  Hilary.  "  She  is  much  too  young." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  "  There 
must  be  at  least  twenty-five  years  between  them." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  the  sisters,  with  irrepressible  laughter, 
"  mamma  is  mating  Herr  Hansen  again." 

"  It  is  not  I  this  time,  dears.     However 

"  Go  on,  mamma." 

"  No,  I  can't,     Let  me  brush  your  hair  for  you, 


a  family  partg.  *75 

Hilary.  I  can't  bear  to  see  you  tug  at  it.  Olga's 
hair  is  very  colorless.  Does  she  speak  English  well  ? " 

"  She  seems  keen  about  improving  in  it,"  said 
Hilary,  "  at  least,  as  far  as  she  can  be  keen  about 
anything." 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Mrs.  Frere,  "  then  she  will  probably 
get  her  own  way." 

"  In  what  ? " 

"  In  marriage.  It  is  very  strange.  If  Frau  Werner 
only  knew — but,  of  course,  I  said  nothing,  nor  shall 
I  do  so,  whatever  happens.  We  cannot  blame  either 
of  them." 

The  girls  looked  at  each  other  and  laughed  again. 

"  Did  you  know  that  Dick  Lorimer  was  coming  to 
Hamburg  at  Christmas  ?"  inquired  their  mother. 

A  flash  of  surprise  and  alarm  passed  over  Hilary's 
face. 

"  What  has  he  to  do  with  Olga  Werner  ? "  she 
asked. 

"  Oh  !  Anna  prefers  a  German,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 
"  At  the  same  time,  she  says  that  when  a  girl's  heart 
speaks,  it  behooves  her  parents  to  listen." 

"  What  extraordinary  conversations  you  elderly 
matrons  seem  to  have,"  observed  Hilary,  looking 
decidedly  provoked.  "  I  suppose  Dick's  heart  would 
have  to  speak  in  this  case,  and  how  does  Frau  Werner 
know  what  it  would  say  ?  " 

"  She  thinks  her  daughters  are  irresistible,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere  with  a  sigh.  "  Some  mothers  are  quite 
infatuated  about  their  children." 

"  I  thought  all  mothers  were,"  said  Nell,  getting 
into  bed. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

ON    THE   ALSTER. 

TOWARD  Christmas  Mrs.  Frere  fell  ill.  Her  sister- 
in-law  attributed  it  to  the  ridiculous  English  habit 
of  opening  windows  in  all  seasons  and  at  all  hours. 
Even  when  the  doctor  looked  grave  she  talked  as  if 
Mrs.  Frere  had  a  cold  in  the  head  that  might  be  cured 
by  violent  exercise.  It  was  really  influenza  with  com- 
plications. Frau  Lange  seemed  to  think  herself  the 
chief  sufferer,  inasmuch  as  illness  gives  trouble,  how- 
ever much  you  neglect  the  patient.  When  Hilary  had 
a  bad  headache  she  used  to  hear  her  aunt  scold  at  the 
top  of  her  voice  over  her  niece's  fussy  and  malinger- 
ing ways.  Frau  Lange  resented  sickness  as  a  personal 
affront,  an  invasion  of  her  privileges.  In  her  own 
house  she  liked  to  monopolize  attention. 

The  girls  were  soon  in  despair.  The  food  provided 
was  so  poor  of  its  kind,  and  so  badly  cooked,  that 
Mrs.  Frere  could  seldom  eat  it.  The  cheap,  sour 
wine,  sent  in  because  the  doctor  ordered  wine,  was 
less  strengthening  and  refreshing  than  common  beer. 
As  long  as  they  had  any  money  left  they  brought  some 
small  dainties  to  their  mother  from  outside,  but  they 
could  not  afford  to  buy  what  she  really  needed ;  and 
one  day,  a  week  before  Christmas,  the  united  funds  of 
the  family  did  not  amount  to  five  shillings.  A  little 
money  was  still  due  to  them  from  the  sale  of  their 
furniture,  but  Mr.  Harrison  had  that  in  his  keeping, 
and  they  could  not  expect  to  get  it  without  a  trouble- 
some correspondence.  Besides,  except  for  their 
income  of  forty  pounds,  they  had  nothing  else  to  live 
on  through  the  coming  year.  Hilary  reckoned  that 
it  would,  be  just  enough  to  satisfy  Aunt  Bertha's 


©n  tbe  Sister.  177 

demands,  and  how  they  were  to  meet  other  necessary 
expenses  she  did  not  know.  The  doctor  and  the 
chemist  would  soon  be  expecting  payment. 

"We  were  so  extravagant  on  our  journey  and  when 
we  first  came  here,"  she  sighed.  "We  spent  money 
on  cabs  and  on  clothes." 

"I  wish  we  had  money  to  spend  on  clothes  now," 
said  Nell.  "I  can't  go  out  in  the  snow  because  all 
my  boots  are  in  holes." 

The  mother  and  daughter  were  in  their  bedroom, 
for  since  Mrs.  Frere's  illness  they  had  lived  in  a  state 
of  siege.  They  did  everything  in  the  room  for  them- 
selves, because  Frau  Lange  said  she  could  not  allow 
Auguste  to  run  the  risk  of  infection.  At  the  same 
time  she  expected  her  nieces  to  appear  at  meals;  as  it 
was,  of  course,  quite  out  of  question  to  carry  trays  to 
and  fro  for  them  as  well  as  for  their  mother.  The 
girls  used  to  find  their  aunt  red  in  the  face  and  very 
sulky,  sometimes  dressed  in  black  silk  and  diamonds, 
sometimes  in  a  flowery  violet  dressing  gown.  They 
never  knew  from  one  hour  to  the  other  whether  she 
would  turn  up  sweet  as  honey  or  furious,  bedecked  or 
slovenly,  nor  was  it  easy  to  decide  which  mood  and 
toilet  were  least  pleasing. 

"There  is  none  of  the  wine  left  that  we  bought," 
said  Hilary,  going  to  the  cupboard  and  taking  out  the 
empty  bottle.  "You  ought  to  have  some  with  your 
dinner,  and  that  sour  stuff  Aunt  Bertha  gets  is  no 
good." 

'  'Auguste  told  me  she  got  it  half  price  because  it  is 
damaged,"  said  Nell.  "It  tastes  of  mildew  and 
vinegar." 

"There  is  lentil  soup  and  sausage  for  dinner," 
said  Hilary,  with  disconsolate  eyes.  "Can  you  eat 
that?" 

Mrs.  Frere's  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  She  was  so 
weak  and  ill  that  she  could  hardly  sit  up  in  the  easy- 
chair  lent  to  her,  after  much  expostulation,  by  Frau 
Lange. 

"If  Henry  knew  that  I  was  ill  and  had  no  money 


178  ftbe  <3ra60boppers. 


to  buy  wine  or  food!"  she  thought.     "I  wish  I  was 
with  him!" 

Hilary  guessed  from  her  mother's  face  something 
of  what  was  passing  through  her  mind,  and  she  bent 
down  to  kiss  her.  They  were  disturbed  by  a  knock 
at  the  door  and  the  immediate  irruption  into  the  room 
of  Frau  Lange,  very  red  and  angry-looking.  She 
wore  the  violet  dressing-gown,  list  slippers,  and  what 
her  nieces  called  a  night-cap.  The  sight  of  Hilary 
and  Nell,  trim  as  daisies,  at  this  early  hour  was  in 
itself  enough  to  excite  her  wrath.  Their  spick-and- 
span  appearance  was,  she  often  told  them,  a  sign  of 
the  idle  lives  led  by  English  girls.  They  were  not 
domesticated.  They  could  not  cook  and  sew,  they 
would  not  scrub,  sweep,  wash,  and  iron,  so  their  house- 
holds went  to  rack  and  ruin.  The  girls  often  wished 
they  might  say  straight  out  that  they  had  never  seen 
in  England  a  household  as  slovenly  and  fussy  as  her 
own.  This  morning,  without  inquiring  after  her  sister- 
in-law,  Frau  Lange  burst  at  once  into  a  whirl  of 
words. 

"Auguste  must  clean  your  room,  Helena.  Of 
course,  in  England  rooms  are  never  cleaned.  I  am  a 
German  housewife,  and  I  cannot  dress  up  like  a  doll 
when  there  is  work  to  do." 

Hilary  knew  what  her  aunt's  proposal  meant. 
Auguste  would  take  up  the  mat  near  Mrs.  Frere's  bed, 
the  only  bit  of  carpet  in  the  room  ;  she  would  then 
upset  a  pail  of  water  on  the  floor,  swish  about  in  it 
with  a  mop,  and  come  away  again,  leaving  the  place 
as  cold  and  damp  as  a  sepulcher.  Mrs.  Frere  was  too 
weak  and  ill  to  move  into  another  room.  To  chill  the 
atmosphere  of  this  one  might  be  enough  to  bring  on 
the  pneumonia  the  doctor  had  with  difficulty  kept  off. 
Hilary  was  just  going  to  remonstrate  when  her  aunt, 
after  making  a  tour  of  the  room,  began  to  speak  again  : 

"You  are  ruining  everything.  Look  at  my  beautiful 
table!  there  is  a  round  mark  on  it.  You  have  put  an 
eau  de  cologne  bottle  down  here." 

"I  am  very  sorry,  Aunt  Bertha,"  said  Hilary.     "I 


©n  tbe  Bteter.  i?9 

put  the  bottle  down   in    a  hurry  the   night   mother 
fainted." 

"Of  course,  you  can  make  excuses.  A  German 
girl  would  never  do  such  a  thing.  She  would  have 
been  better  brought  up.  How  your  clothes  are  lying 
about!  I  could  look  like  a  fine  lady  if  I  did  nothing 
but  stare  in  the  glass  all  day.  And  you  have  splashed 
the  wall-paper,  and  there  is  my  magnificent  magenta 
plumeau  on  the  floor,  and  — Ach !  du  lieber,  all- 
machtiger  Gott — the  water-jug  is  cracked — my  real 
English  water-jug!  No.  That  is  too  much.  You 
must  pay  for  it.  I  shall  get  out  my  common  crockery 
for  you,  and  my  second-best  plumeau;  and  I  will  not 
have  another  fire  here  this  winter,  the  dirt  and  smoke 
are  spoiling  everything." 

"If  you  forbid  the  fire  to  be  lighted,  I  shall  ask  Dr. 
Riedel  to  get  mother  into  a  hospital,"  said  Hilary.  ' '  I 
suppose  she  would  be  treated  with  common  humanity 
there." 

"Oh,  no,  Hilary,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  in  a  weak  voice. 
"I  don't  want  to  leave  you  and  Nell." 

"Let  us  all  go  away,"  said  Nell.  "We  should  be 
better  in  the  Elbe  than  here." 

"You  take  everything  so  literally,"  said  Frau  Lange, 
who  looked  quite  cowed.  Hilary's  threat  of  appealing 
to  the  doctor  had  acted  on  her  rage  like  a  dash  of 
cold  water  on  a  flame.  She  did  not  want  any  story  to 
her  discredit  bruited  abroad  among  neighbors  already 
unkindly  aloof.  She  went  out  of  the  room  in  sulky 
silence,  and  a  few  minutes  later  Auguste  appeared  with 
a  basket  of  wood  and  a  message  to  say  that  as  the 
English  ladies  liked  their  room  dirty  they  were  wel- 
come to  keep  it  so. 

Later  on  in  the  day  Hilary  set  out  to  skate  on  the 
Alster,  which  had  been  frozen  for  more  than  a  week. 
Mrs.  Frere  made  a  good  deal  of  objection  to  the 
expedition.  She  said  that  Frau  Werner  might  be  sit- 
ting at  her  window  and  see  Hilary  on  the  ice  without 
an  escort.  A  few  years  ago  public  opinion  in  Ham- 
burg had  considered  skating  an  improper  amusement 


i8o  £be  <3rassboppers. 

for  ladies.  Frau  Werner's  elder  daughters  had  never 
been  allowed  to  learn,  but  on  her  last  birthday  Olga 
had  received  a  pair  of  skates.  The  tide  of  fashion  is 
truly  irresistible.  When  will  the  young  ladies  of 
Hamburg  take  to  golf? 

Hilary  promised  not  to  put  on  her  skates  in  front 
of  Frau  Werner's  window.  In  reality,  she  had  other 
objects  in  view  than  an  afternoon's  exercise.  When  she 
arrived  at  the  Jungfernstieg  she  went  straight  to  Frau 
Werner's  house  and  rang  at  her  door.  The  maid  said 
that  her  mistress  was  about  to  drive  out,  and  then 
Hilary  remembered  having  seen  a  handsome  carriage 
and  pair  waiting  below,  with  a  coachman  in  a  blue 
livery  and  a  broad-brimmed,  shiny  hat.  However, 
she  accepted  the  maid's  invitation  to  enter  and  wait 
in  the  sitting  room. 

In  a  few  minutes  Frau  Werner  appeared,  ready 
dressed  for  her  drive.  Her  manner  as  she  welcomed 
Hilary  showed  slight  surprise,  but  she  signed  to  the 
girl  to  sit  down,  and  asked  very  cordially  after  her 
mother.  Hilary  explained  that  her  mother  had  been 
ill,  and  was  still  in  a  delicate  conditon.  A  pause 
ensued.  Hilary  tried  to  summon  up  courage  and 
broach  her  real  errand,  but  her  heart  beat  uncomfort- 
ably. She  had  not  reckoned  on  having  to  speak  in  a 
hurry.  It  was  difficult,  and  would  probably  be  in- 
effective. Should  she  wait  for  a  more  favorable 
opportunity?  No.  If  she  ran  away  now,  she  would 
feel  like  a  coward  when  she  got  home  again.  She 
must  somehow  say  what  was  in  her  mind. 

"Frau  Werner,"  she  began  haltingly,  "I  am  very 
anxious  to  get  work." 

Frau  Werner  looked  at  her  doubtfully. 

"So  your  mother  told  me,  my  child;  but  what  kind 
of  work  can  you  do?" 

"I  could  teach  English.  I  know  French  pretty 
well,  and  some  Greek  and  Latin." 

"Our  girls  have  no  use  for  Greek  and  Latin,"  said 
Frau  Werner. 

"They  learn  French  and  English." 


©n  tbe  Hteter.  181 

"At  school.  Some  take  private  lessons  too,  but  for 
that  we  have  old-established  teachers.  You  might 
advertise,  but  I  fear  you  would  get  no  answers." 

"I  am  very  anxious  to  earn  some  money,"  said 
Hilary,  with  her  eyes  on  the  ground. 

Frau  Werner  smoothed  her  muff  and  looked 
unhappy. 

"It  is  very  difficult,"  she  said,  with  a  sigh.  "You 
have  had  no  training  either  to  teach  or  do  anything 
useful.  In  Germany  we  expect  people  to  understand 
the  work  they  undertake." 

"But,"  persisted  Hilary,  for  she  had  told  herself 
all  the  way  here  that  she  must  be  persistent,  "but  in 
Germany,  as  well  as  in  other  countries,  it  must  often 
happen  that  girls  who  have  not  been  taught  to  earn  a 
living  are  suddenly  obliged  to  do  so.  What  do  they 
do?" 

"They  often  go  to  England,"  said  Frau  Werner. 
"Besides,  German  girls  are  not  brought  up  as  you 
have  been.  They  learn  everything.  My  daughters 
make  perfect  housekeepers  directly  they  marry,  and, 
besides  that,  they  can  paint  flowers,  and  sing,  and 
play,  and  embroider  beautifully,  and  speak  several 
languages." 

Hilary  sighed. 

"I  must  find  something  to  do,"  she  said.  "I  am 
sure  I  could  teach  little  children.  I  would  take  great 
pains  with  them." 

"Why  do  you  not  take  a  situation  in  England?" 

Hilary  explained  that  her  mother  did  not  like  the 
idea  of  separation  from  either  of  her  children.  Frau 
Werner  pointed  out  that  the  career  of  a  private  gov- 
erness would  entail  separation  in  any  case.  She  did 
not  believe  that  Hilary  would  find  an  engagement 
on  terms  that  left  her  partial  freedom.  No  one  she 
knew  employed  a  daily  governess.  The  system  was 
unknown  in  Hamburg. 

Again  there  was  a  pause,  and  Hilary  felt  that  she 
had  probably  outstayed  her  welcome.  No  one  likes 
their  horses  to  wait  long  in  a  hard  frost.  She  got  up, 


182  ttbe  <3rassboppet0. 

and  she  saw  by  the  alacrity  with  which  Frau  Werner 
rose  too  that  she  had  done  so  none  too  soon. 

"Good-by,  my  dear  child.  If  I  hear  of  anything 
for  you,  I  will  let  you  know.  Meanwhile,  I  hope  you 
will  all  have  a  happy  Christmas.  On  New  Year's  Eve 
I  expect  you  here,  but  don't  arrive  in  ball  dresses 
again.  These  are  not  Court  circles.  We  are  plain 
burgherly  folk,  and  like  to  see  young  girls  simple  and 
joyous.  I  have  so  much  shopping  to  do  for  Christ- 
mas, I  hardly  know  where  to  begin.  Are  you  also  very 
busy?  Do  you  embroider  in  secret  for  your  mother 
and  aunt?  Yesterday  I  saw  a  light  under  Olga's  door 
at  midnight.  I  got  up  to  look.  This  morning  she 
is  quite  pale  and  has  red  eyelids,  but  I  say  nothing; 
when  I  was  a  girl  I  did  just  the  same.  Greet  your 
mother  for  me.  I  am  sorry  she  was  out  when  I 
returned  her  visit.  I  shall  send  her  a  proper  invitation 
for  New  Year's  Eve." 

Hilary  left  the  house  with  a  heavy  heart.  She  felt 
that  her  mission  had  failed.  This  was  plainly  a  world 
in  which  butterflies  are  not  easily  turned  into  working 
bees;  at  any  rate  the  process  proved  in  her  case  to 
be  slow  and  mortifying.  Did  no  one  want  her?  Was 
there  really  nothing  that  she  could  do?  She  could 
not  afford  a  long,  unfruitful  apprenticeship?  What 
could  she  set  her  hand  to  to-day  for  which  anyone 
on  earth  would  pay  her?  In  London  she  had  heard 
of  girls  going  on  the  stage,  though  they  had  nothing 
to  recommend  them  but  youth  and  good  looks.  Even 
to  her  ignorant  eyes  such  a  life  bristled  with  difficulties, 
and  she  had  seen  enough  of  Hamburg  to  know  that  it 
would  be  as  impossible  for  her  to  do  it  here  as  to  dance 
at  a  music  hall  on  a  tight  rope.  Quite  as  impossible, 
because  she  could  only  expect  to  act  as  super  or 
chorus  girl  at  first.  In  spite  of  her  low  spirits,  Hilary 
smiled  as  she  thought  of  the  expression  with  which 
Frau  Werner  and  Herr  Hansen  would  hear  of  such  an 
intention  on  her  part.  In  her  opinion,  their  disap- 
proval would  be  justifiable.  She  shrank  fastidiously 
from  the  surroundings  that  would  be  forced  on  her 


On  tbe  Slater.  183 

behind  the  footlights.  It  would  be  more  agreeable, 
she  thought,  to  stand  behind  a  counter,  and  perhaps 
a  little  less  shocking  to  her  friends.  But  she  felt  sure 
that  no  one  would  consent  to  buy  her  services  for  a 
long  time  to  come.  And  she  could  as  ill  afford  time 
as  money.  Even  a  housemaid  or  a  sewing  woman 
had  learned  a  trade.  Hilary  could  not  expect  to  be 
trusted  with  cleaning,  mending,  or  making.  Besides, 
she  did  not  look  the  part.  And  a  cook  was  an  artist ; 
so  was  a  dressmaker;  so  was  a  milliner.  Alas!  she 
had  never  followed  the  arts. 

Thousands  of  people  were  on  the  ice.  The  main 
stream  of  skaters  passed  between  an  avenue  of  booths 
a  mile  long — booths  hurriedly  erected  for  the  sale  of 
liquor,  rough  food,  and  skates;  but  this  long  lane 
served  for  a  promenade  as  well  as  for  a  rink.  Down 
the  middle  the  skaters  glided  swiftly — a  motley  crowd. 
On  either  side,  where  the  ice  was  not  swept,  those  who 
did  not  skate  could  walk  in  comfort  and  look  on. 
The  whole  basin  of  the  Alster  was  frozen  hard  and 
sprinkled  with  people  to-day ;  some  skating  by  them- 
selves far  away  toward  the  cold,  pearly  mist  on  the 
horizon,  some  right  out  in  the  center  of  the  lake, 
some  crossing  to  the  opposite  bank.  But  the  shoal 
streamed  past  the  booths,  and  Hilary  joined  it.  She 
skated  straight  on  away  from  the  city,  and  looked 
about  her.  The  air  and  hard  exercise  roused  her, 
the  lively  scene  entertained  her.  She  wished  that 
Nell  had  come.  Wherever  her  eyes  fell  she  saw  some- 
thing new  and  strange.  She  met  a  pair  of  lovers 
billing  and  cooing  as  if  the  Alster  had  been  a  desert; 
she  saw  a  young  man  drop  his  glove,  and  the  young 
woman  with  him  pick  it  up ;  she  skated  for  nearly  ten 
minutes  within  earshot  of  two  officers,  who  talked  like 
the  lieutenants  in  the  Fliegende  Blatter.  It  gave  her 
great  pleasure  to  listen  to  them.  No  one  molested 
her,  although  she  looked  in  vain  for  other  solitary  girls 
of  her  own  age.  Many  were  there  in  twos  and  threes, 
and  presently  a  very  unsteady  trio  came  toward  her, 
and  nearly  tumbled  at  her  feet.  She  swerved  quickly 


to  avoid  a  collison,  halted  at  the  sound  of  her  name, 
and  then  recognized  Olga  Werner  for  one  of  the 
clumsy  three. 

"You  can  skate!"  she  said  to  Hilary,  in  surprise. 
"I  thought  there  never  was  ice  in  England,  but  only 
fog." 

"There  is  ice  sometimes,"  said  Hilary. 

"My  sister  Martha  says  that  in  England  there  is  no 
ice,  and  no  strawberries,  and  no  nightingales." 

"Since  I  have  been  in  Germany,"  said  Hilary,  "I 
have  heard  many  things  about  England  that  I  did  not 
know  before." 

Olga  Werner's  friends  had  gone  on  ahead,  and  she 
now  looked  after  them  in  dismay.  She  could  scarcely 
stand  on  her  skates,  and  whenever  anyone  brushed  by 
her  she  seized  Hilary's  arm,  and  clung  tight  until  the 
danger  was  past. 

"You  have  come  a  long  way,"  said  Hilary,  wonder- 
ing how  it  had  been  managed.  They  had  met  far  out 
on  the  lake,  beyond  the  booths,  and  at  least  two  miles 
from  Olga's  home;  but  the  girl  shook  her  head. 

"I  have  only  just  come,"  she  explained.  "I  have 
been  spending  the  day  with  Martha.  She  lives  close 
by  here.  Lili  and  Toni  Petersen  were  there  too,  and 
we  said  we  would  skate  home  together;  but  now  they 
have  gone  on  so  fast,  I  cannot  see  them.  I  always 
tell  Martha  they  are  very  disagreeable  girls ;  but  she 
will  not  believe  me,  because  they  are  her  husband's 
nieces.  Do  you  see  them?" 

"No,"  said  Hilary;  "but  I  can  take  care  of  you. 
It  is  time  for  me  to  turn  back." 

"I  must  not  be  late  either.  We  dine  earlier  than 
usual  to-day,  because  we  are  going  to  the  theater  and 
it  is  the  'Gotterdammerung'  to-night.  That  is  so 
long,  you  know,  that  trrey  begin  half  an  hour  sooner. 
Mr.  Lorimer  from  England  is  here.  He  will  sit  with 
us — in  our  box." 

"Dick  Lorimer  here?"  exclaimed  Hilary,  taken  by 
surprise. 

"Yes,  but  only  for  one  day,  on  his  way  to  Ltibeck, 


©n  tbe  Slater.  185 

where  he  has  business.  I  forgot  that  you  know 
him." 

"He  is  not  skating,  then?" 

"No.  This  morning  he  was  busy  with  my  father, 
and  this  afternoon  he  has  gone  to  see  some  friends. 
Perhaps  it  is  you  he  has  gone  to  see." 

"Oh!  I  wonder  if  he  has,"  cried  Hilary,  quicken- 
ing her  pace  for  a  moment,  and  then  recognizing  the 
futility  of  haste  at  this  late  hour.  Besides,  she  could 
not  hurry  home  unless  she  left  Olga  in  the  lurch,  and 
it  was  impossible  to  do  that.  The  girl  could  not  have 
steered  her  way  through  a  crowd  that  got  more  dense 
and  rather  rougher  as  the  working- day  came  to  an 
end. 

"He  did  not  tell  you  he  was  coming  to  see  us?" 
she  asked,  after  a  little  reflection. 

"I  have  not  seen  him  yet,"  said  Olga.  "He  is  at 
a  hotel.  My  mother  sent  him  an  invitation  to  dinner, 
but  he  refused  it,  because  he  did  not  know  that  he 
would  be  back  in  time.  He  said  in  his  letter  that  he 
might  even  arrive  late  in  the  theater." 

The  two  girls  skated  on  for  a  time  quite  silently. 

The  lights  of  Hamburg  began  to  gain  on  the  fading 
light  of  the  winter  afternoon.  The  four  steeples  came 
into  view  again  through  the  cold  twilight  mist.  The 
gas  lamps  twinkled  in  rows  all  round  the  Alster,  and 
in  irregular  points  far  back  behind  the  windows  and 
the  high  roofs  of  the  town.  The  clocks  of  the  four 
great  churches  struck  the  hour,  and  their  chimes  rang 
out  across  the  lake  above  all  the  cling-clang  made  by 
a  brass  band  and  by  ten  thousand  voices.  As  the 
twilight  deepened  men  and  boys  brought  flaming 
torches  on  the  ice,  and  ran  to  and  fro  with  them  among 
the  skaters,  asking  for  pence ;  but  there  was  no  dis- 
order and  no  horse  play  at  this  hour.  The  girls  did 
not  feel  afraid,  although  Olga  said  that  she  had  never 
before  been  out  so  late  by  herself. 

"Well,  you  are  with  me  now,"  said  Hilary  con- 
solingly. "I  suppose  I  am  as  old  as  your  sister 
Martha," 


1 86 

"But  Martha  is  married,"  said  Olga,  in  a  voice  of 
solemn  remonstrance.  She  was  skating  hand  in  hand 
with  Hilary  now,  and  getting  on  at  a  reasonable  speed, 
but  her  companion  had  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  all 
the  while  lest  a  touch  should  upset  them  both.  Every 
now  and  then  Olga  swayed  dangerously,  or  came  to  a 
sudden,  baffling  halt.  She  said  that  her  ankles  ached. 
It  was  after  one  of  these  delays  that  she  astonished 
Hilary  by  abruptly  speaking  of  Dick  Lorimer  again. 

"He  is  so  good-looking, "  she  said  sentimentally. 
"He  has  such  beautiful  eyes.  Have  you  ever  noticed 
that?" 

"I  don't  see  how  anyone  could  help  it  who  was  not 
blind,"  said  Hilary,  half  annoyed,  half  amused. 

"How  long  have  you  known  him?" 

"Oh!  all  my  life." 

"Really!  I  shall  tell  him  to-night  that  we  have 
been  skating  together.  He  will  be  interested.  Would 
you  rather  live  in  England  or  in  Germany,  Miss 
Frere?" 

"In  England,"  said  Hilary,  with  home-sick 
emphasis. 

"I  would  rather  live  in  Hamburg  than  anywhere. 
I  should  have  to  be  excessively  fond  of  a  person  to 
follow  him  into  a  foreign  country.  Do  you  not  agree 
with  me?  You  would  not  go  off  with  anyone  any- 
where?" 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Hilary,  in  whose  ears  the 
question  sounded  superfluous. 

"Some  girls  would,"  said  Olga,  with  a  sage  air,  "to 
be  married,  you  know." 

"There  are  your  friends,"  said  Hilary.  "If  you 
like,  we  can  easily  overtake  them." 

Olga  did  not  look  anxious  to  do  so,  but  she  con- 
sented to  quicken  her  pace  until  they  joined  the  two 
deserters  again.  Perhaps  it  occurred  to  her  that  Hilary 
was  still  a  long  way  from  home;  but,  after  all,  the 
four  girls  went  on  hand  in  hand.  With  support  on 
either  side,  Olga  managed  to  spin  forward  merrily,  so 
that  Hilary  would  hardly  have  gained  two  minutes  by 


©n  tbe  Steter.  187 

separating  from  the  rest.  She  found  their  chatter  out 
of  tune  with  her  own  frame  of  mind.  They  were  full 
of  the  coming  Christmas,  and  of  the  fine  presents  they 
were  all  about  to  give  and  receive — especially  receive. 
One  girl  hoped  for  a  pearl  necklace ;  her  sister  ex- 
pected furs,  and  a  new  silk  gown,  and  twenty  smaller 
things.  Olga  Werner  said  she  wanted  an  opera  glass, 
and  a  feather  fan,  and  a  watch-bracelet,  and  a  muff, 
and  a  gold  thimble,  and  several  books,  and  some  new 
music. 

"You  want  a  good  deal,"  said  one  of  her  com- 
panions. 

"I  shall  get  all  those,  and  many  more,"  said  Olga. 
"We  each  make  a  list,  and  everyone  who  gives  us 
presents  looks  at  it.  It  has  to  be  long — long — long — 
until  in  the  end  one  does  not  know  what  to  write 
down.  Some  of  my  sisters  ask  for  things  they  do  not 
want  much,  but  I  never  do  that.  First,  I  ask  for 
what  I  really  need,  and  then  I  put  down  books,  music, 
gloves,  because  those  are  always  useful.  What  is  your 
plan,  Miss  Frere?" 

Hilary  made  some  evasive  answer,  and  soon  after 
bid  good-by.  These  girls  made  her  feel  old  and  heavy- 
hearted.  As  she  listened  to  them  she  could  hardly 
believe  that  she  had  ever  been  pretty,  well  dressed, 
and  free  from  care.  If  she  had  seen  her  hair  turn 
gray,  she  would  have  felt  that  it  matched  her  humor. 
All  the  way  back,  while  Olga  stumbled  at  her  side, 
and  Olga's  friends  talked  nineteen  to  the  dozen,  and 
the  roofs  and  turrets  of  the  great  city  came  more  and 
more  clearly  into  view,  one  idea  pushed  itself  upper- 
most in  Hilary's  mind.  She  saw  no  chance  of  making 
money,  and  by  hook  or  by  crook,  a  little  money  she 
must  have.  The  doctor  had  ordered  red  wine  for 
Mrs.  Frere;  he  had  hinted  at  champagne;  even 
Rhenish  red  wine  cost  half  a  crown  a  bottle  in  these 
northern  regions;  and  there  were  other  demands  to 
meet  before  the  end  of  the  year.  There  were  new 
boots  to  get,  for  instance.  Then  Auguste,  a  capitalist 
in  comparison  with  the  ladies  whose  boots  she  blacked, 


1  88  flfce  ©rassboppers. 


would  expect  a  handsome  tip  at  Christmas.  The 
tyranny  of  the  festive  season  presses  with  greater 
weight  in  Germany  than  in  England.  Its  exigencies 
had  been  on  Hilary's  mind  for  weeks.  Finally,  she 
had  resolved  to  make  her  appeal  for  work  to  Frau 
Werner;  but  her  hope  of  success  cannot  have  been  very 
strong,  for  at  the  moment  of  making  it  she  carried  in 
her  pocket  certain  trinkets  that  in  case  of  failure  she 
meant  to  try  and  sell.  This  ordeal  still  lay  before 
her,  and  she  shrank  from  it  unspeakably. 

How  silly  !  braver  and  bolder  women  will  say.  The 
trinkets  were  hers.  Why  should  she  hesitate  to  dis- 
pose of  them  in  any  way  she  chose?  The  question  is 
unanswerable.  The  truth  is,  Hilary  was  rather  old- 
fashioned  in  some  of  her  opinions,  and  as  unbusiness- 
like as  possible.  She  did  not  think  it  disgraceful, 
under  the  circumstances,  to  sell  her  rings  and  her 
watch,  but  she  wondered  how  she  would  ever  find 
courage  to  enter  a  shop  and  propose  the  bargain. 
Shops  were  places  where  you  spend  money  and  meet 
with  civility.  If  she  walked  into  one,  and  asked  to 
bring  money  away,  she  might  find  herself  treated  with 
rudeness  ;  but  even  that  she  had  better  bear,  to  such 
a  pass  had  her  fortunes  come. 

She  felt  strongly  tempted  to  give  up  her  project  for 
to-day,  and  hurry  home  on  the  chance  of  seeing  Dick. 
When  she  got  to  the  Jungfernstieg  she  stood  still  and 
looked  back  at  the  skaters  for  a  moment,  doubtful 
what  she  ought  to  do.  She  had  stayed  on  the  ice  until 
the  dusk  came,  because  she  thought  her  errand  would 
be  more  comfortably  done  by  dark  than  by  day  ;  but 
now  it  was  getting  unduly  late.  Ought  she  to  be 
wandering  about  the  back  streets  of  a  foreign  town  by 
herself?  She  had  determined  that  her  venture  must 
be  made  in  a  back  street.  All  the  lamps  were  lit. 
Evening  had  come.  It  would  be  grievous  to  miss 
Dick.  Who  knew  as  well  as  she  that  he  had  eyes? 

Hilary  turned  brusquely,  and  took  a  step  or  two 
toward  the  corner  whence  the  tramcars  started  for  her 
suburb;  but  the  Jungfernstieg  is  not  very  broad,  an4 


<S»n  tbe  Bister.  189 

she  could  see  across  the  road  quite  plainly.  Suddenly 
she  saw  Dick.  She  made  a  rush,  was  balked  an 
instant  by  a  passing  carriage,  and  thsn  saw  him  disap- 
pear into  the  open  doors  of  a  hotel.  Perhaps  you  will 
call  her  old-fashioned  again,  but  if  he  had  disappeared 
down  a  fiery  pit  she  would  have  felt  it  less  impossible 
to  follow  him.  The  particular  kind  of  audacity  that 
a  gir\  would  need  for  such  an  enterprise  is  not  the 
kind  inculcated  at  St.  Cyprian's.  She  felt  sick  with 
vexation  and  disappointment,  but  she  could  not  go 
by  hersell  to  a  foreign  hotel  and  call  on  a  bachelor 
friend.  No  one  would  be  more  indignant  than  Dick 
if  she  did.  He  was  old-fashioned,  too,  in  some  ways. 

So  there  was  nothing  now  to  prevent  her  from  trying 
to  sell  her  treasures;  and  with  the  sudden,  desperate 
energy  of  a  person  bent  on  disagreeable  business,  she 
plunged  helter-skelter  into  an  unknown  quarter  of 
the  town.  It  took  some  time  to  find  a  jeweler's  shop 
that  looked  promising,  and  at  last  she  stopped  in  front 
of  one  she  did  not  much  like;  but  she  felt  driven  to 
bring  the  business  to  a  conclusion.  She  peeped  in 
at  the  door,  and  saw  no  one  behind  the  counter 
except  a  red-haired,  unpleasant-looking  youth.  She 
felt  sure  that  he  would  cheat  her,  but  then  she  carried 
no  lantern  to  light  her  to  an  honest  man.  She  lingered 
by  the  window ;  staring  at  its  contents,  screwing  up  her 
courage.  She  had  her  foot  on  the  door-step,  when 
jshe  heard  her  name  spoken  in  a  tone  of  extreme  sur- 
prise, and  turning  hastily,  she  beheld  Herr  Hansen 
looking  at  her  as  if  he  could  not  believe  his  senses. 
How  did  she  arrive  at  the  threshold  of  a  jeweler's 
shop  in  a  back  slum  of  the  city,  late  on  a  winter 
afternoon? 

"You  have  lost  your  way?"  he  said  inquiringly. 
"Let  me  take  you  back.  Is  your  mother  with  Frau 
Werner?" 

"No,"  said  Hilary.     "I  am  by  myself." 

"This  is  not  a  nice  part  of  the  town,"  he  objected, 
'and  it  is  getting  late." 

Hilary  wished  he  would  go  his  ways. 


"I  like  being  out  after  dark,"  she  said;  "the  streets 
are  prettier  then." 

Herr  Hansen  looked  up  and  down  the  one  they 
were  in  as  if  he  felt  puzzled  to  discover  what  pleased 
her  here.  It  was  dingy,  badly  lighted,  and  almost 
empty;  all  qualities,  if  he  had  only  known  it,  that 
suited  her  present  purpose. 

"I  am  going  into  this  shop,"  said  Hilary.  He 
looked  at  it  contemptuously. 

"It  is  not  a  shop  for  you,"  he  said.  "Let  me  take 
you  to  a  good  one." 

"No,  thank  you.  This  will  do  for  what  I  want," 
she  persisted.  Herr  Hansen  saw  her  face  set  more 
firmly.  He  feared  that  he  had  annoyed  her. 

"Do  you  know  your  way  home  from  here?"  he 
asked,  as  he  held  out  his  hand  to  bid  her  good-by. 
She  nodded  and  pointed  in  the  right  direction,  the 
one  he  now  took  by  himself.  Hilary  watched  him 
turn  the  corner  of  the  street  before  she  actually 
entered  the  shop.  The  encounter  had  ruffled  her. 
She  felt  sure  that  if  Herr  Hansen  knew  her  errand 
he  would  think  it  quite  disgraceful.  His  social  expe- 
riences could  never  have  shown  him  young  ladies 
reduced  to  sell  their  watch  and  rings.  Such  things 
did  not  happen  to  the  wealthy,  respectable  folk  who 
were  his  friends.  It  had  taken  many  heavy  hours  to 
convince  Hilary  that  it  must  happen  to  herself. 

The  unpleasant-looking  youth  stared  more  closely 
at'her  than  at  the  trinkets  she  offered  for  sale;  but  he 
took  them  to  the  light,  made  several  disparaging 
remarks  about  their  condition  and  value,  and  finally 
proposed  a  price.  She  put  out  her  hand  to  take  the 
things  back.  The  price  he  mentioned  fell  below  the 
meanest  estimate  she  had  put  on  the  watch,  without 
the  rings.  It  grieved  her  to  part  with  any  of  them, 
for  they  were  all  gifts  from  her  father;  but  as  she  took 
them  into  her  hands  she  hesitated,  and  put  them  down 
again.  She  remembered  her  mother's  pale  lips,  her 
feeble  voice,  her  want  of  appetite.  At  any  sacrifice 
she  must  take  back  some  wine. 


©n  tbe  Steter.  19 l 

"Give  me  the  money,"  she  said,  pushing  back  the 
things.  He  did  so,  and  she  hurried  out  of  the  shop; 
but  she  had  hardly  got  beyond  its  doors  when  Herr 
Hansen  appeared  again. 

"There  is  a  fight  going  on  between  two  drunken 
\  men  in  the  next  street,"  he  said.  "The  police  will 
make  short  work  of  them  directly,  but  just  nov/  there 
is  a  nasty  crowd.  It  is  not  fit  for  you  to  pass  through 
it.  You  would  probably  get  your  pocket  picked.  I 
will  take  you  back  to  a  decent  part  of  the  town  by 
another  v/ay." 

"Thank  you,"  stammered  Hilary.  He  wondered 
why  her  manner  was  so  dazed  to-day.  As  they  stood 
there  the  youth  from  the  shop  came  up  to  them,  and 
without  at  first  taking  much  notice  of  Hilary's  com- 
panion, began  to  complain,  in  an  unpleasant  manner, 
of  the  articles  she  had  just  sold  to  him.  He  wanted 
half  the  money  back,  he  said.  She  had  swindled  him. 
The  diamonds  in  her  ring  were  paste,  the  watch  was 
worn  out. 

Hilary  looked  at  Herr  Hansen,  and  in  spite  of  her 
embarrassment  she  felt  glad  that  he  was  there. 

"I  have  been  selling  these  things,"  she  said  in 
English.  "The  diamonds  are  real,  and  the  watch  is 
a  good  one.  He  has  given  me  hardly  any  money  for 
them?" 

"What  has  he  given  you?" 

Hilary  opened  her  hand  and  showed  him  the  one 
piece  of  gold  and  the  few  silver  coins  she  had  brought 
away  and  not  put  into  her  purse  yet.  Herr  Hansen's 
way  of  coming  to  her  assistance  amused  her  vastly 
when  she  thought  it  over  afterward.  He  did  not  ask 
her  what  her  wishes  were,  or  treat  her  as  if  she  had 
any  interest  in  the  matter  at  all.  He  took  possession 
of  the  money,  marched  the  young  man  back  to  the 
shop,  made  him  disgorge  Hilary's  property,  and  called 
him  a  thief  in  such  plain  language  that  the  girl 
wondered  how  even  a  cur  could  stand  it.  Perhaps 
the  youth  recognized  a  distinguished  citizen  in  Herr 
Hansen ;  perhaps  the  epithets  applied  to  him  were  not 


r92  Gbe  (Brassboppere. 

new  in  his  ears.  At  any  rate,  his  bluster  vanished. 
He  made  an  abject  apology,  and  Herr  Hansen  came 
away  with  Hilary's  trinkets  in  his  hands.  Her  first 
thought,  when  she  saw  them,  was  of  the  wine  she 
wanted.  How  could  she  get  it  without  money?  But 
she  thanked  Herr  Hansen  with  all  her  heart. 

"Do  you  really  wish  to  sell  them?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  I  do,  "said  Hilary. 

Herr  Hansen  reflected. 

"You  had  better  let  me  manage  it  for  you,  then.  It 
is  not  a  nice  thing  for  a  young  lady  to  do  for  herself, 
in  my  opinion,  but  I  suppose  you  are  in  a  hurry.  It 
is  some  secret  you  are  preparing  for  Christmas ;  some 
surprise  for  your  mother  or  sister?  I  understand." 

Hilary  hesitated.  Should  she  leave  him  under  a 
false  impression  that  was  creditable,  or  tell  the  truth, 
of  which  she  felt  unreasonably  ashamed?  On  the 
whole,  it  seemed  best  to  say  nothing.  She  did  not 
want  to  force  their  destitution  on  the  notice  of  a 
wealthy  friend,  or  call  his  attention  to  her  own  act  of 
self-sacrifice.  He  could  not  assist  them,  and  she  had 
no  wish  to  raise  herself  high  in  his  opinion.  If  the 
wish  had  been  there,  she  would  still  have  felt  uncertain. 
She  really  did  not  know  what  he  would  think  of  the 
truth  if  he  knew  it — whether  his  scorn  or  compassion 
would  be  roused,  his  friendship  or  his  disapproval. 
Let  him  think  of  her  then  as  able  to  buy  Christmas 
presents.  The  illusion  could  do  no  one  any  harm. 

Herr  Hansen  \vatched  her  anxiously  as  she  walked 
beside  him,  silent  and  wrapped  in  thought.  Her 
manner  told  him  more  than  she  knew.  He  had  only 
a  slender  belief  in  the  Christmas  presents,  but  he  felt 
pleased  with  himself  for  having  suggested  them. 

"I  know  something  about  diamonds,"  he  said,  as 
he  saw  Hilary  into  the  right  tramcar.  "Those  in 
your  ring  are  good  ones.  I  shall  get  you  a  fair  price 
and  send  the  money  to-morrow." 

Hilary  looked  at  him  with  a  grateful  smile.  Till 
to-morrow  the  wine  merchant  would  assuredly  wait  for 
his  money. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

NEWS   FROM    ENGLAND. 

WHEN  Hilary  got  home  she  found  that  Dick  had 
called,  and  that  no  one  but  the  servant  had  seen  him. 
Her  mother  had  been  in  bed,  and  Nell  out.  Hilary 
could  have  cried  with  disappointment.  Why  had  he 
not  written  to  announce  his  visit? 

"We  are  his  old  friends,  and  he  ought  to  know  that 
we  should  be  glad  to  see  him,"  she  said.  "\Vc  arc 
all  home-sick.  The  sight  of  Dick  would  have  been 
as  welcome  as  the  sight  of  Dover  cliffs  is  when  one  gets 
back  again.  I  wonder  whether  the  porters  at  Dover 
station  know  how  pleased  their  countryfolk  always  are 
to  see  them.  Do  you  think  they  get  more  tips  than 
other  porters?  But  what  I  see  when  I  shut  my  eyes 
is  the  Strand  on  a  winter  evening.  Everyone  is  driv- 
ing to  the  theater — it  is  raining  a  little — the  gas  is 
flaring — the  streets  are  blocked  by  the  traffic — the  little 
newspapers  boys  are  screaming  out  the  specials — oh! 
what  would  I  give  to  have  a  fresh  pink  Globe  in  my 
hands  just  now,  to  know  what  people  are  thinking 
about  in  London  this  very  hour.  And  why  is  there 
never  a  fog  here,  mamma?  What  is  winter  without 
one  thick  black  fog?  How  I  wish  we  were  back,  and 
could  have  muffins  for  tea  and  roast  beef  for 
dinner!  Why  can't  we  go  and  live  in  a  cottage  in 
Devonshire?  One  of  our  housemaids  used  to  tell  me 
about  her  home.  It  had  four  rooms,  and  a  great  barn, 
and  a  dear  little  garden  full  of  fruit  and  flowers,  and 
the  rent  was  two  pounds  a  year.  We  could  grow  our 
own  eggs  and  bacon  there.  I  would  take  a  situation 
as  governess,  and  spend  the  holidays  with  you.  Con- 


<5rassbopper0. 

sider  what  it  would  be  to  live  by  ourselves  again  and 
have  no  rows ! ' ' 

"Consider  how  impossible  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 
"We  have  no  money  for  traveling,  and  none  for  fur- 
niture, and  at  my  time  of  life  I  cannot  begin  to  live 
on  eggs  and  bacon,  or  to  scrub  my  own  floors." 

"The  truth  is,"  said  Hilary,  "we  ought  not  to  be 
alive  at  all.  Ladies  without  money  are  the  most  help- 
less, the  most  unfortunate,  the  most  pitiable  creatures 
in  the  world.  If  I  could  be  a  cook  or  a  housemaid  I 
could  earn  a  comfortable  living,  and  have  the  market 
in  my  own  hands.  Every  girl  who  is  not  to  inherit  a 
fortune  should  either  be  strangled  at  birth  or  taught  a 
trade." 

"Of  course,  I  never  looked  forward  to  this," 
responded  Mrs.  Frere.  "I  did  not  expect  your  father 
to  die,  and  I  did  expect  Nell  and  you  to  marry.  It  is 
your  own  fault  that  you  have  not." 

Mrs.  Frere's  tone  suggested  that  she  had  always 
done  her  duty.  It  was  the  girls  who  had  failed  in 
theirs.  She  could  never  see  that  she  was  chiefly 
responsible  for  their  present  position.  She  had 
brought  up  her  children  to  be  incapable  of  any  steady 
effort,  unfit  for  the  least  privation;  and  having  reared 
creatures  so  delicate,  useless,  and  ignorant,  she  had 
refused  to  think  of  the  future,  or  to  sacrifice  anything 
for  its  provision.  But  she  would,  of  course,  have 
told  you  that  she  had  equipped  her  daughters  admi- 
rably for  the  only  career  in  which  women  can  find  real 
happiness.  She  had  given  them  beauty,  health,  and 
charm — qualities  as  valuable  to  women  as  brains  and 
industry  are  to  men.  Girls  who  refuse  to  gather  rose- 
buds while  they  may  have  only  themselves  to  blame 
when  they  go  empty-handed.  If  you  train  a  boy  to  a 
profession,  and  he  throws  away  golden  opportunities 
of  making  his  way  in  it,  you  condemn  him  and  not 
yourself.  Hilary  had  refused  Herr  Hansen.  Her 
mother  dwelt  on  that  piece  of  folly,  and  not  on  her 
own  extravagant  housekeeping,  whirli  she  looked 
back  at  as  a  father  may  look  at  the  money  paid  to 


fie  we  from  BnglanO.  *95 

launch  his  sons.  It  is  the  part  of  the  sons  to  prove 
that  the  investment  has  been  a  wise  one. 

After  considerable  hesitation  Hilary  determined  not 
to  tell  her  mother  and  sister  of  her  meeting  with  Herr 
Hansen  that  afternoon.  It  was  not  the  family  habit 
to  have  reservations  from  each  other,  but  she  knew 
how  it  would  vex  Mrs.  Frere  to  hear  that  her  daugher 
had  been  seen  on  such  an  errand.  Hilary  could 
depend  on  Herr  Hansen's  silence.  She  supposed  that 
he  would  send  the  money  in  a  registered  envelope,  so 
she  meant  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  the  postman  until 
it  arrived.  That  night  she  wrote  to  Dick,  told  him 
how  grieved  they  all  had  been  to  miss  him,  begged  him 
to  come  again  next  day  if  he  had  time.  When  she 
woke  in  the  morning  she  wondered,  as  she  opened  her 
eyes,  whether  he  would  come.  She  had  addressed 
her  letter  to  the  hotel  she  had  seen  him  enter.  He 
would  get  it  by  the  first  post  if  he  was  staying  there. 

"I  am  sure  he  will  not  come,"  she  said  to  her 
mother  and  Nell.  "He  is  going  to  Liibeck  to-day  on 
business.  Of  course,  he  cannot  put  that  off  and  get 
right  out  here  again,  just  to  see  us  for  a  few  minutes." 

Nell  watched  her  sister  at  the  looking-glass.  Even 
if  you  only  possess  one  old  serge  gown,  you  may  put 
it  on  in  a  manner  that  will  be  full  of  meaning  to 
another  woman.  Indeed,  before  Hilary  got  to  the 
gown,  her  sister  knew  she  hoped  in  her  heart  that  Dick 
would  come.  She  took  unusual  pains  with  her  hair. 
Then  she  brushed  the  bodice  very  carefully,  and  tried 
it  first  without  a  linen  collar,  and  afterward  with  one. 
Finally  she  put  on  her  best  shoes. 

But  when  the  post  came  it  brought  her  disappoint- 
ment. There  was  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Frere  from  Dick,  in 
which  he  expressed  great  regret  at  having  seen  none 
of  them  yesterday.  He  added  that  he  must  leave 
Hamburg  at  an  early  hour  this  morning.  Nell  saw 
Hilary  look  doubtfully  at  her  shoes.  Of  course,  she 
ought  to  have  put  on  her  old  ones  now ;  and  if  Nell 
had  not  been  afraid  to  vex  her  sister,  she  would  have 
strongly  advised  her  to  do  so,  on  the  same  principle 


that  bids  you  take  out  an  umbrella  on  a  fine  day  to 
prevent  the  rain;  but  Hilary  was  not  superstitious. 
After  the  first  breakfast,  in  spite  of  Dick's  letter,  she 
wrapped  herself  in  a  fur  cloak,  and  went  down  to  the 
first-floor  sitting  room.  From  one  of  its  windows  she 
could  see  anyone  entering  the  front  gate.  She  felt 
too  restless  to  occupy  herself  in  any  ordinary  way. 
Suppose  Dick  got  her  letter,  put  off  his  journey  for  a 
few  hours,  and  came  to  see  them  again.  She  did  not 
want  to  miss  a  glimpse  of  him,  and  one  of  the  questions 
it  took  time  to  settle  was,  whether  she  should  watch 
him  cross  the  front  garden  and  disappear  through  the 
hall  door,  or  whether  the  moment  she  saw  him  she 
should  rush  down  and  let  him  in  herself?  When  she 
had  decided  which  she  would  do,  she  strove  hard  to 
convince  herself  that  he  could  not  come  at  all.  He 
had  started  for  Liibeck  long  since,  and  why  she  was 
wasting  her  time  at  this  window  she  did  not  know. 
Of  course,  she  wanted  to  see  him  very  badly.  On 
this  point  she  did  not  deceive  herself.  Her  eyes 
danced,  her  heart  beat  as  she  pictured  him  walking 
in.  She  asked  herself  what  she  would  feel  like  if  he 
stayed  away  and  wrote  to  tell  them  that  he  was  going 
to  marry  Olga  Werner,  and  her  involuntary  reply  told 
her  more  than  she  had  bargained  for.  The  idea  of 
Dick  married  to  anyone  else  had  the  effect  on  her 
spirits  that  a  splash  of  water  has  on  a  red-hot  cinder. 
It  put  out  the  glow. 

Hilary  waited  at  the  window  for  half  the  morning,  her 
heart  leaping  at  every  little  sound,  and  sinking  again 
when  it  proved  not  to  be  made  by  Dick's  arrival. 
The  strain  of  expectation  exhausted  her,  and  the  cold 
soon  chilled  her  to  the  bone.  When  she  felt  frozen 
and  ready  to  cry  with  disappointment  she  ran  upstairs, 
put  on  her  hat  and  jacket,  and  started  for  a  walk.  It 
does  not  become  any  girl  to  have  blue  cheeks  and  a 
red  tip  to  her  nose.  If  she  walked  in  the  right  direc- 
tion along  the  road  to  Hamburg  she  could  not  miss 
Dick,  and  the  outdoor  air  would  paint  her  in  pleasanter 
colors  than  the  stale,  unheated  room  had  done. 


flews  from  England.  '97 

It  was  a  bright,  cold  day.  Hilary  walked  briskly 
forward,  and  felt  a  different  creature  in  ten  minutes, 
exhilarated  by  the  exercise,  cheered  by  the  sunshine, 
glowing,  fresh,  and  in  good  spirits.  It  did  not  in  the 
least  surprise  her  when  she  met  Dick  in  a  cab  about  a 
mile  away  from  home.  He  jumped  out  in  a  great 
hurry,  paid  the  driver,  and  a  moment  later  was  walk- 
ing by  her  side.  She  had  turned  back  toward  home, 
and  he  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course  that  she  should 
do  so. 

"You  said  you  would  be  in  this  morning,"  he  began. 

"You  said  you  would  be  on  your  way  to  Liibeck." 

"I  am  going  by  a  later  train." 

"How  unbusinesslike!" 

They  were  walking  quickly,  and  talking  hurriedly, 
and  looking  at  each  other  with  laughing,  delighted 
eyes.  The  sunshine  helped  them.  It  shone  on 
Hilary's  hair  and  made  it  glitter;  it  threw  their 
shadows  in  a  pair  on  the  pavement;  it  turned  the  hour 
golden.  They  were  both  young,  and  just  now  they 
were  together  again.  Absence  and  sorrow  had  taught 
the  girl  to  value  what  she  had  hardly  counted  a  treas- 
ure before.  She  looked  out  anxiously  for  any  signs 
that  Dick  still  loved  her,  and  in  his  manner  she  saw 
many.  To  these  she  replied.  But  manner  is  intan- 
gible, and,  to  a  girl  who  would  fain  make  amends, 
unsatisfactory.  By  the  time  they  arrived  at  Frau 
Lange's  house  Hilary  wished  Dick  would  speak 
plainly,  that,  she,  too,  might  make  plain  her  change 
of  mind.  She  could  not  take  the  initiative.  At  such 
moments  as  these  she  was  hardly  in  advance  of  her 
grandmother.  However,  when  she  got  to  the  gate, 
she  hesitated  slightly.  If  they  went  in  now,  she  must 
take  him  to  the  upstairs  sitting  room  to  see  her  mother; 
if  he  proposed  to  walk  on  with  her  instead  she  would 
go.  She  felt  loath  to  enter  the  house  and  end  the 
present  hour. 

"This  is  where  we  live,"  she  said,  with  her  hand  on 
the  gate.  Dick  looked  at  the  garden  and  at  the  front 
windows. 


"Not  bad." 

Hilary  showed  by  her  expression  that  she  could  not 
agree  with  him. 

"Have  you  good  walks  near?" 

"Very  good,"  said  Hilary.  "Woods — I  should 
like  to  show  them  to  you." 

"When  I  come  again  in  the  spring,"  said  Dick,  with 
an  eager  look,  from  which  she  averted  her  own  eyes 
in  a  flurry.  For  at  least  a  minute  they  stood  uncer- 
tainly at  the  gate,  acutely  conscious  of  each  other, 
not  thinking  of  what  they  should  do  next.  Hilary 
felt  almost  sure  that  Dick  still  loved  her,  still  wished 
to  make  her  his  wife.  He  was  too  honest  a  man  to 
woo  a  girl  in  this  way,  dumbly,  and  then  ride  away. 
But  perhaps  he  felt  disinclined  to  spealc  a  second 
time;  perhaps,  being  a  man,  he  did  not  understand 
that  she  had  changed;  men  were  proverbially  dense. 
She  did  not  know  what  more  she  could  do  to  open  his 
eyes.  Could  he  suppose  that  any  other  man  ever 
heard  her  speak  with  the  voice  he  had  heard  once  or 
twice  this  morning? 

"Well,  shall  we  go  in?"  she  said.  Dick  followed 
her,  wondering  as  he  did  so  what  had  suddenly 
depressed  her  voice  and  caused  the  corners  of  her 
mouth  to  droop  rather  sadly.  When  this  happened, 
when  the  first  fresh  glow  of  the  outer  air  had  faded 
from  her  cheeks,  he  saw  that  she  had  grown  thin,  and 
that  the  color  he  had  seen  with  admiration  did  not 
stay. 

"You  do  not  look  so  well  as  I  thought  at  first,"  he 
said,  stopping  her  anxiously  at  the  foot  of  the  second 
flight  of  stairs.  "Does  the  life  here  suit  you?" 

"Not  very  well,"  admitted  Hilary.  "We  all  wish 
we  were  at  home  again." 

"You  never  say  anything  of  your  aunt  in  your 
letters.  What  is  she  like?" 

"She  is  rather — vivacious,"  said  Hilary,  with  a 
smile  that  struck  Dick  as  melancholy.  She  spoke 
in  an  undertone,  and  proceeded  hastily  upstairs.  She 
did  not  want  an  encounter  with  her  aunt  on  the  land- 


flews  from  Bnglanfc.  199 

ing,  and  she  knew  that  at  this  time  of  day  Frau  Lange 
was  engaged  in  what  she  called  "housekeeping" — a 
process  requiring,  on  her  part,  strong  lungs  and  a 
vocabulary,  and,  on  the  part  of  Auguste,  tears  and 
patience. 

Mrs.  Frere  and  Nell  were  in  the  upstairs  sitting 
room,  and  Dick  thought  he  had  never  seen  a  more  com- 
fortless looking  apartment.  It  smelled  of  petroleum, 
had  no  carpet  and  no  easy-chairs,  and  was  very 
insufficiently  warmed.  When  he  saw  the  mother  and 
daughters  together,  he  did  not  know  which  of  the 
three  looked  most  white  and  ill.  From  Mrs.  Frere 
his  eyes  wandered  anxiously  to  Hilary,  and  from 
Hilary  to  Nell. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,  Dick,"  said  Mrs. 
Frere.  "You  are  the  first  of  our  old  friends  who  has 
been  over  here.  How  is  everyone  in  London?  Do 
you  ever  go  past  our  old  house?  and  have  they  cut 
down  the  white  lilac  near  the  gate?  I  hope  not.  We 
planted  it  ourselves,  and  some  day,  when  we  live  in 
London  again,  I  want  to  get  a  cutting.  Do  you  think 
the  new  people  would  give  me  one?" 

"I  dare  say,"  said  Dick;  "but  are  you  coming 
back  to  London  ?  Have  you  had  enough  of  Germany  ? ' ' 

"We  have  had  enough  of  Germany,  but  we  are  not 
coming  back  to  London,"  said  Nell.  She  shivered 
as  she  spoke,  and  Dick  did  not  wonder  at  it.  With 
his  greatcoat  on  he  felt  cold  in  this  room. 

"I  wish  you  would  come  back,"  he  said. 

"I  suppose  you  will  soon  be  over  here  again?" 
observed  Mrs.  Frere.  "You  will  be  coming  to  see 
the  Werners?" 

Dick  looked  rather  surprised. 

"I  don't  expect  to  have  business  here  again  until 
the  spring,"  he  said,  and  then  he  turned  to  Hilary 
and  addressed  her: 

"After  Christmas  I  shall  have  to  go  to  New  York 
for  three  months,  and  I  may  go  to  Australia  too." 

His  manner  of  making  this  communication  raised 
Hilary's  spirits.  It  pleased  her  that  he  should  inform 


200  abe  ©rassboppers. 

her  of  his  future  movements,  and  take  her  interest  in 
them  for  granted ;  but  the  spring  looked  further  off 
than  ever,  now  that  she  saw  it  beyond  a  journey 
across  the  Atlantic.  The  present  moment,  in  which 
she  could  really  see  Dick,  speak  to  him,  even  touch 
his  hand,  was  flying  fast.  Every  tick  of  her  aunt's 
noisy  clock  made  it  shorter.  Another  five  minutes, 
perhaps,  and  he  would  get  up  and  bid  good -by.  She 
knew  of  no  spell  with  which  she  could  detain  him. 

"When  you  talk  of  spring,  which  month  do  you 
mean?"  she  said,  speaking  out  of  her  thoughts,  instead 
of  taking  part  in  the  discussion  of  American  scenery 
started  by  Mrs.  Frere  and  Nell. 

Dick  stopped  in  the  midst  of  something  he  had 
begun  to  say.  Hilary's  question  betrayed,  in  some 
degree,  what  was  passing  through  her  mind.  She 
wanted  to  fix  a  date  for  their  next  meeting.  Without 
conceit  he  might  hope  that. 

"I  expect  to  be  here  again  in  May,  "he  said,  "unless 
I  do  go  to  Australia ;  then  I  should  not  get  back  to 
London  till  July." 

Hilary  made  no  reply,  and  her  irresponsiveness  dis- 
appointed him,  because  he  did  not  understand  its 
reasons.  From  December  to  July  is  a  long  time  to 
wait  for  what  you  would  rather  have  to-day  than  to- 
morrow. The  clock  ticked  in  her  ears  and  helped  to 
make  her  dumb.  Every  click  brought  the  moment 
nearer  when  Dick  would  walk  away.  Who  knew  where 
they  would  all  be  eight  months  hence?  To  folks 
whose  fortunes  are  in  shreds  eight  months  sounds  like 
a  lifetime.  Any  day  a  mere  gust  may  tear  them  quite 
to  pieces. 

'  'You  will  still  be  here  in  May?' '  said  Dick  anxiously. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Hilary;  but  her  mother 
nodded  and  blinked  at  Dick. 

"Of  course,  we  shall  still  be  here.  Young  people 
are  always  restless,  and  the  girls  would  like  to  go  back 
to  London,  but  we  have  to  study  economy  now." 

Mrs.  Frere  made  the  last  remark  with  a  triumphant 
air,  as  if  opportunities  for  the  study  of  economy  had 


Hews  from  JEnglanfc.  201 

hitherto  been  desired  but  unattainable.  Dick's  face 
was  rather  sad.  He  had  noticed  the  patch  on  Nell's 
sleeve,  and  the  sunshine  had  shown  him  that  Hilary's 
gown  was  shabby.  He  thought  Mrs.  Frere  looked  as 
if  she  would  hardly  outlive  the  winter,  and  the  girls  as 
if  they  were  poorly  warmed  and  nourished,  but  he  did 
not  know  what  he  could  do. 

A  few  minutes  later,  when  he  got  up  to  go,  Hilary, 
with  a  leaden  heart,  got  up  too,  and  said  that  she 
would  see  him  to  the  door;  and  when  they  reached 
the  first  floor  he  stopped  her. 

"Hilary,"  he  said  in  a  matter-of-fact  tone,  "your 
mother  looks  ill.  Have  you  money  enough  to  get  her 
what  she  wants?" 

Hilary  nodded  affirmatively  and  turned  crimson. 

"You  must  let  me  know,"  continued  Dick,  still 
striving  to  be  composed  and  businesslike.  It  cost 
him  a  struggle,  because,  when  he  found  himself  alone 
with  Hilary,  and  on  the  verge  of  parting  from  her, 
he  was  beset  by  a  burning  desire  to  take  her  in  his 
arms.  If  he  had  done  so  he  would  have  made  her 
very  happy,  after  the  first  shock,  but  he  did  not  know 
that.  In  his  effort  at  self-mastery  his  manner 
hardened;  he  exaggerated  the  business-like  tone,  and 
Hilary  shrank  from  it,  repelled  and  half  offended. 

"You  are  very  kind,  Dick,"  she  said,  with  her  head 
erect  and  her  cheeks  aflame ;  "but  we  can  get  on,  and, 
of  course,  we  cannot  take  money  from  you." 

Before  he  could  remonstrate  she  ran  lightly  down- 
stairs before  him,  and  he  followed,  vexed  with  himself 
and  her.  As  he  descended,  the  sound  reached  him  of 
a  coarse,  shrill  voice,  speaking  with  unrestrained  fury 
to  someone  also  out  of  sight.  He  listened  in  amaze- 
ment. If  his  friends  were  doomed  to  live  in  the  same 
house  with  a  woman  who  bellowed  like  a  fish-wife,  no 
wonder  they  looked  wretched.  He  saw  now  that 
Hilary  was  trembling,  and  had  turned  crimson.  She 
opened  the  door  and  held  out  her  hand,  as  if  she 
wished  to  hurry  him  away;  but  he  lingered,  and  for- 
got the  ugly,  ill-tempered  voice. 


3be  <5ras0bopper0. 

"You  must  come  back  to  England,"  he  said,  with 
her  hand  in  his.  "You  belong  there." 

For  a  moment  Hilary  felt  exquisitely  happy.  The 
grip  of  Dick's  hand  seemed  to  communicate  his  own 
strength  and  courage,  and  his  voice  to  make  pleasant 
promises ;  but  before  she  could  speak  they  were  inter- 
rupted. Her  aunt,  with  agitating  suddenness,  bounced 
out  of  the  kitchen  into  the  front  hall,  and  a  pretty  figure 
she  was.  If  Dick  had  not  been  there  Hilary  would 
have  received  her  with  composure,  because  it  cannot 
be  said  that  her  appearance  was  exactly  unusual.  All 
the  morning  she  habitually  wore  list  slippers,  un- 
gartered  rough  gray  stockings,  the  greasy  violet 
wrapper,  and  a  frilled  white  cap,  and  while  she  was 
"housekeeping"  she  always  wore  a  scowl  and  a 
crimson  face.  Hilary  had  become  quite  accustomed 
to  her  aunt's  attire,  though  she  still  found  the  scowl 
and  the  inflamed  cheeks  upsetting.  But  to-day  she 
felt  ready  to  sink  into  the  earth  with  shame  when  Frau 
Lange  dashed  toward  them,  a  slatternly  virago.  She 
had  a  bowl  full  of  potato  parings  in  her  hands,  and 
she  was  followed  by  Auguste,  who  looked  as  sloppily 
dressed  as  her  mistress.  Dick  stared  at  the  pair  of 
them,  and  then  swiftly  averted  his  eyes.  Frau  Lange, 
in  evident  embarrassment,  shuffled  back  toward  the 
kitchen,  jogged  against  Auguste  as  she  did  so,  and  let 
the  bowl  in  her  hands  slip  to  the  ground.  It  fell  with 
a  noisy  crash — broken  in  pieces. 

"Good-by,"  murmured  Hilary,  almost  inviting  him 
to  go,  and  as  the  door  closed  behind  him  he  heard 
Frau  Lange's  voice  begin  again.  From  the  word  or 
t\vo  he  made  out,  he  could  not  doubt  that  this  time 
she  addressed  herself  to  her  niece.  The  vision  of  her 
and  the  sound  of  her  haunted  Dick.  He  knew  that 
there  were  queer  people  in  the  world,  but  to  think  of 
Hilary  in  the  clutches  of  this  slovenly  old  virago  made 
him  most  miserable.  He  left  Hamburg  in  the  lowest 
spirits,  for  his  own  difficulties  were  thick  upon  him 
just  now.  The  loss  of  the  two  thousand  pounds 
crippled  him  considerably,  and,  because  troubles  never 


Hews  from  Bnglanfc.  203 

come  singly,  one  of  his  largest  debtors  had  become 
involved  in  a  recent  bank  failure  and  could  only  pay 
a  shilling  in  the  pound.  Dick  laughed  at  his  own 
folly  when  he  thought  of  Hilary,  and  wished  he  could 
have  carried  her  away.  A  man  in  his  present  position 
had  no  right  to  think  of  marriage.  Nevertheless,  as 
he  traveled  home,  he  thought  of  nothing  else.  He 
determined  to  work  as  hard  as  he  could,  and,  however 
poor  he  was,  to  try  his  luck  again  next  spring. 

But  Hilary  did  not  know  anything  of  his  difficulties, 
and  now  that  he  had  gone  away  without  speaking  she 
told  herself  not  to  imagine  that  he  would  ask  her 
again.  After  his  visit  the  days  seemed  drearier  and 
longer  than  they  had  been  before. 

Herr  Hansen  sent  her  a  larger  sum  of  money  than 
she  had  expected  for  her  watch  and  rings,  and  she  set 
two-thirds  of  it  aside  for  production  after  Christmas, 
when  the  doctor  and  the  chemist  would  have  to  be 
paid;  the  rest  she  gladly  put  in  her  purse  for  present 
use.  She  spent  it  on  comforts  for  her  mother,  and  on 
some  necessaries  for  Nell  and  herself,  without  explain- 
ing where  it  came  from.  Mrs.  Frere  never  inquired. 
She  vaguely  knew  that  Hilary  had  a  little  pocket  money 
when  she  left  England,  and  it  grieved  her  to  see  it 
spent  on  food  instead  of  on  finery.  That  it  must  have 
been  exhausted  long  ago  did  not  occur  to  her.  She 
could  not  apply  her  mind  to  this  kind  of  mental  arith- 
metic. To  please  Hilary  she  refrained  from  ordering 
expensive  Christmas  presents  for  her  sister-in-law  and 
her  children,  but  she  still  spent  shillings  where  pence 
should  have  sufficed,  and  allowed  a  pound  to  melt 
with  terrifying  rapidity.  Some  natures  take  pride  in 
thrift,  and  find  the  exercise  of  it  bracing  and  full  of 
interest,  but  Mrs.  Frere  hated  the  need  of  it  as  she 
hated  a  cold  east  wind.  She  would  seek  any  shelter 
rather  than  face  either. 

Hilary  was  the  only  one  of  the  three  who  would 
have  spoken  as  Loti  does  of  une  pauvreti  e xquise  ;  but 
then,  if  she  had  been  allowed  a  free  hand,  she  would 
have  tried  to  make  their  poverty  exquisite. 


204  £be  <3ras0bopper0. 

In  her  opinion,  the  worst  difficulties  of  the  situation 
were  created  by  her  mother's  inability  to  accept  it. 
Even  their  income  would  have  paid  for  a  two-pound 
cottage  and  enough  porridge  and  potatoes.  Any  hard- 
ships seemed  more  desirable  than  debt,  and  more 
honorable  than  such  a  life  as  they  were  leading  now. 
But  it  happened  to  her,  as  it  has  happened  to  so  many 
of  us,  with  the  kinsfolk  who  loved  her  she  felt  com- 
pelled to  sink  or  swim. 

Mrs.  Frere  still  dreamed  of  marriage  for  her 
daughters.  With  one  of  them  comfortably  established, 
their  affairs  might  even  yet  go  well.  Of  Arthur 
Preston  they  had  heard  nothing  since  they  left  Eng- 
land, and  Hilary  felt  sure  that  her  sister  suffered  more 
through  his  silence  than  through  the  discomforts  of 
their  aunt's  manage.  How  does  one  girl  know  that 
another  is  eating  her  heart  out  for  a  man  whose  name 
never  passes  her  lips?  Partly  by  this  very  taboo, 
partly  by  the  failure  of  her  health  and  spirits,  by  her 
restlessness  and  by  her  eyes.  Nell's  last  bad  cold  had 
left  a  persistent  cough  behind  it,  that  Aunt  Bertha 
seemed  to  think  was  artificially  kept  up  for  her 
annoyance. 

Even  on  these  winter  days  Hilary  often  walked 
round  her  aunt's  little  garden  in  brooding,  inconclu- 
sive thought;  making  impossible  plans,  cheered  by 
flashes  of  hope,  waking  from  pleasant  dreams  to  feel 
the  actual  day  more  empty  than  before.  She  never 
took  advantage  of  Herr  Hansen's  permission  to  walk 
in  his  garden,  although  at  this  time  of  the  year  he 
lived  in  town,  so  that  there  was  little  chance  of  an 
encounter  with  him.  She  did  not  go,  because  Aunt 
Bertha  went  so  often  "on  the  lookout,"  as  Nell  said. 
Any  day  Herr  Hansen  might  turn  up  to  see  how  his 
plants  were  faring  in  the  frost,  and  Hilary  could  not 
endure  the  thought  that  he  should  encounter  two  of 
them  there  "on  the  lookout." 

One  afternoon,  just  before  Christmas,  when  they 
assembled  at  the  dinner  table,  the  girls  saw  that  their 
a.unt  was  elated,  and  as  they  had  seen  her  come  back 


flews  from  BnglanD.  205 

a  little  while  ago  from  Herr  Hansen's  garden,  they 
guessed  at  once  that  she  had  met  him  there.  When 
she  had  stood  up  to  ladle  out  the  cabbage  soup  she  sat 
down  again,  and  said  to  no  one  in  particular: 

"I  feel  much  better  to-day." 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  ill,"  said  Nell. 

"  I  dare  say  not.  You  only  think  of  yourselves. 
That  is  a  national  characteristic,  as  I  remarked  to 
Herr  Hansen  this  morning." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Aunt  Bertha?" 
asked  Hilary. 

"Oh,  nothing  that  would  interest  you.  A  very 
obscure  and  complicated  condition  of  the  nerves. 
That's  all.  Some  people  never  see  you  are  ill  unless 
you  can  show  them  a  cut  or  a  bruise." 

"That's  true,"  said  Nell. 

Her  aunt  stared  at  her  suspiciously,  and  then  con- 
tinued speaking. 

"It  is  such  a  relief  to  talk  to  a  man  of  refinement 
and  education — a  man  who  gives  himself  no  airs,  and 
yet  is  really  learned  and  accomplished.  I  have  been 
telling  Herr  Hansen  what  a  very  poor  opinion  I  have 
of  English  schools." 

"He  must  have  been  amused,"  observed  Nell. 

"He  was  deeply  interested.  I  told  him  you  were 
neither  of  you  able  to  knit  a  stocking,  or  cook  a 
potato,  or  mend  your  own  clothes,  and  that  you  were 
not  even  possessed  of  any  other  knowledge  as  a  com- 
pensation. When  I  was  a  girl,  I  knew  a  great  deal 
about  chemistry,  and  mythology,  and  literature.  Of 
course  I  have  forgotten  most  of  it,  but  that  does  not 
matter  in  the  least.  I  should  have  been  ashamed, 
when  I  was  your  age,  to  sit  glued  to  a  chair  all  the 
evening,  and  do  nothing  to  entertain  my  mother's 
guests.  Herr  Hansen  has  promised  to  spend  Christ- 
mas Eve  with  us.  It  is  a  great  honor.  But  what  can 
you  do  to  show  that  you  appreciate  it?  What  can  you 
do?  Sit  still  with  your  hands  folded,  I  suppose?" 

The  girls  did  not  offer  any  more  startling  contribu- 
tion to  the  evening's  entertainment  just  then,  and 


206  $be  (5rassbopper0. 

their  aunt  went  on  to  say  that  their  arrogant  silence 
reminded  her  of  Herr  Hansen's  message.  He  had 
met  one  of  their  countrywomen  in  Hamburg,  a  Mrs. 
Theodore,  and  she  was  coming  to  see  them  this  after- 
non.  Who  was  Mrs.  Theodore?  and  what  did  she 
want  in  Hamburg?  Was  she  related  to  the  Jewish 
family  of  that  name? 

"Her  husband  is,"  said  Hilary. 

"We  don't  think  much  of  Jews  here,"  said  Frau 
Lange  haughtily. 

"How  mediaeval!"  cried  Nell.  "You  had  better 
try  and  impress  Mrs.  Theodore  with  a  sense  of  her 
inferiority." 

"Is  she  Jewish?" 

"English.     Which  is  worse,  Aunt  Bertha?" 

"The  Jews  have  some  good  qualities "  began 

Frau  Lange,  but  how  she  meant  to  go  on  her  nieces 
never  knew,  because  they  fled  hurriedly  from  the 
room  to  hide  their  inextinguishable  laughter. 

The  girls  had  hardly  told  their  mother  of  Mrs. 
Theodore's  intended  visit  when  Auguste  came  into 
the  bedroom,  to  announce  her  arrival,  with  her  hus- 
band. Mrs.  Frere  was  worse  than  usual  that  day, 
and  had  not  got  up  yet,  so  the  girls  went  down  to  the 
"best"  room  by  themselves.  To  their  amusement, 
they  found  their  aunt  there  installed  on  the  sofa  next 
to  Mrs.  Theodore.  Frau  Lange  looked  quite  flustered 
by  these  elegant,  sedate,  and  supercilious  visitors. 
She  was  full  of  apologies  for  her  nieces  because  they 
had  not  appeared  directly;  and  for  the  room  because 
it  was  not  well  warmed.  She  felt  paralyzed  by  Mrs. 
Theodore's  manner,  and  overwhelmed  by  her  fine 
clothes.  When  Hilary  and  Nell  went  in,  they  found 
that  her  color  had  risen,  and  that  her  guests  had 
somehow  silenced  her.  No  one  was  speaking,  and 
the  husband  and  wife  were  looking  round  the  room 
with  amused  contempt.  The  lamps  had  been  lighted 
in  their  honor,  and  they  could  see  everything  plainly — 
the  magenta  reps,  the  imitation  bronzes,  the  oleo- 
graphs in  gaudy  frames,  the  wax  flowers.  The  girls 


"Hews  from  J6n0lan&.  207 

felt  almost  sorry  for  their  aunt,  and  inclined  to  defend 
her  tawdry  treasures ;  but  you  cannot  easily  overthrow 
an  enemy  who  only  attacks  with  glances. 

"We  thought  we  would  look  you  up  as  we  had  noth- 
ing much  to  do  this  afternoon,"  said  Mr.  Theodore. 
"Sorry  we  shan't  see  Mrs.  Frere.  Your  aunt  says 
she  has  a  slight  cold." 

"My  mother  has  been  ill  for  some  weeks,"  said 
Hilary.  "She  is  in  a  very  delicate  state." 

"Horrid  climate  this.  Beast  of  a  place  altogether. 
Don't  know  why  anyone  lives  here.  I  never  know 
how  to  put  in  my  time  when  I  come  for  a  week." 

"Don't  you  care  for  the  theater?" 

"It  isn't  open  in  the  afternoon,"  said  Mrs.  Theo- 
dore, who  always  seemed  to  enjoy  a  conversation 
chiefly  for  the  chances  it  offered  her  of  setting  other 
people  right.  "Besides,  we  have  just  come  from 
Paris,  and  seen  good  acting." 

"But  there  is  good  acting  here,"  interposed  Frau 
Lange  in  a  tone  of  heavy  remonstrance. 

Mrs.  Theodore  showed  no  sign  of  interest,  and  was 
about  to  speak  to  Nell  when  Frau  Lange  began  again, 
rather  more  loudly: 

"The  Hamburg  actors  are  excellent." 

"So  my  friends  tell  me,"  said  Mrs.  Theodore. 

"How  is  Sophia?"  asked  Hilary,  as  she  saw  her 
aunt's  color  rise  alarmingly. 

Mrs.  Theodore  put  down  her  eyeglasses,  through 
which  she  had  glanced  at  Frau  Lange. 

"Sophia  is  very  well,"  she  said. 

"  And  very  happy,"  added  her  husband,  with  a  faint 
smile. 

His  wife  looked  at  him  and  seemed  to  hesitate. 

"Yes,"  she  said  finally,  "she  is  very  happy." 

"Where  is  she  now?"  asked  Hilary. 

"Probably  in  a  Paris  shop,"  replied  Mr.  Theodore, 
glancing  at  a  gilt  clock,  under  a  glass  shade,  that 
stood  on  the  top  shelf  of  a  rickety  whatnot. 

"She  is  buying  her  trousseau  in  Paris,"  explained 
his  wife. 


2o8  abe  (Brassboppers. 

"Is  she  going  to  be  married?"  cried  Nell,  refrain- 
ing just  in  time  from  adding,  "at  last."  "We  had 
not  heard  of  it." 

"You  are  out  of  the  world  now,"  said  Mr.  Theo- 
dore. "You  cannot  expect  to  hear  things." 

"Our  best  congratulations  to  Sophia,"  said  Hilary. 
"Whom  is  she  going  to  marry?  Anyone  we  know?" 

"You  know  him  very  well,"  began  Mrs.  Theodore; 
but  her  husband  interrupted  her. 

"Let  them  have  three  guesses,"  he  proposed. 
"They  are  sure  to  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head." 

"My  mind  is  a  blank  on  the  subject,"  said  Nell, 
thinking  to  herself  that  she  knew  no  one  likely  to 
mate  with  that  clumsy,  plain  Sophia. 

Hilary  was  watching  Mr.  Theodore's  face  for  a 
clew,  and  the  moment  her  sister  spoke  she  got  it.  She 
knew  positively  what  would  come  next;  her  hands 
turned  to  ice;  her  heart  stood  still;  she  wondered 
how  she  could  drive  Nell  out  of  the  room. 

"Nell,"  she  began,  "do  run  upstairs.  I  think  I 
hear  mamma's  voice." 

Nell's  brows  were  bent  in  cogitation.  She  hardly 
noticed  what  her  sister  said.  She  did  not  stir. 

Mr.  Theodore  let  a  moment  elapse,  so  that  his 
words  should  not  seem  an  immediate  comment  on 
Hilary's  tactics.  Then  he  said  pleasantly  to  her: 

"Perhaps  you  guess?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  she  said  curtly. 

A  woman  cannot  hit  from  the  shoulder,  as  a  rule, 
but  if  she  has  honest  eyes  she  can  look  straight  at  a 
man  she  despises,  and  make  him  understand  her  full 
opinion.  In  future  Mr.  Theodore  could  not  flatter 
himself  that  Hilary  took  him  for  anything  but  a  sneak. 

"You  guess?"  faltered  Nell,  glancing  from  one  to 
the  other.  She  understood  from  her  sister's  manner 
that  something  was  wrong,  and  her  fears  fastened  with 
a  flash  where  her  wishes  centered;  but  this  did  not 
blunt  the  edge  of  Mrs.  Theodore's  next  words  for  her 
— they  seemed  to  cut  her  heart  in  two.  She  heard 
them  at  a  great  distance,  and  she  felt  unable  to  speak 


*lcw0  from  Bnglanb.  209 

or  move  while  they  forced  themselves  on  her  under- 
standing. 

"It  is  Arthur  Preston." 

Nell  heard  Mrs.  Theodore  say  that,  and  then  go  on 
saying  other  things  about  his  devotion  to  Sophia,  and 
his  attentions  to  her  all  through  the  autumn,  and  his 
proposal  to  her  at  Brighton  one  November  afternoon. 
But  these  remarks  only  entered  Nell's  ears.  They 
made  no  impression  on  her  memory,  because,  all  the 
while,  she  was  saying  to  herself  over  and  over  again, 
"It  is  Arthur  Preston,  it  is  Arthur  Preston,"  as  if  she 
found  it  a  difficult  thing  to  understand  or  to  remember. 
Finally  she  said  it  aloud: 

"It  is  Arthur  Preston."  Her  voice  sounded  harsh, 
as  if  she  had  not  spoken  for  some  time,  and  she  inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Theodore,  who  stopped  short  and  looked 
at  the  girl  with  surprise. 

"You  had  better  come  over  for  the  wedding,"  said 
Mr.  Theodore. 

His  wife  stared  at  him,  as  if  she  hardly  knew 
whether  he  was  dense  or  vicious.  She  had  just  enough 
good  feeling  to  be  sorry  for  Nell  when  she  observed 
how  hardly  she  took  Arthur's  desertion.  No  one 
could  fail  to  see  that  the  girl  felt  shattered  by  the 
news.  She  had  turned  as  white  as  death  and  still 
seemed  dazed.  Hilary  thought  her  sister  would 
faint,  and,  without  consulting  her  aunt,  she  threw 
open  one  of  the  double  windows.  A  current  of  icy 
air  blew  through  the  room,  and  a  few  snowflakes 
settled  on  the  floor.  Nell  shivered  and  roused  her- 
self. Frau  Lange  rushed  to  the  window,  shut  it  with 
a  bang,  and  let  loose  her  tongue  on  the  subject  of 
English  extravagance.  No  sooner  had  a  room  been 
heated  than  her  nieces  wished  to  make  it  cold  again. 
She  explained  the  mechanism  of  her  stove,  which 
only  needed  filling  and  lighting  once  a  week,  provided 
the  windows,  as  well  as  the  doors  of  the  room,  were 
kept  closely  shut  night  and  day.  That  very  day  the 
weekly  supply  of  fresh  air  had  been  admitted  before 
the  stove  was  stocked  with  fuel  and  set  going  again. 


Of  course,  in  England  no  one  knew  what  it  was  to  sit 
in  a  warm  room. 

Mrs.  Theodore  put  up  her  lorgnon  again,  and 
listened  to  this  tirade  without  saying  a  word  in  reply 
to  it,  just  as  she  would  have  listened  to  the  chatter  of 
an  ape,  without  attempting  to  join  in  discussion  with 
him.  Perhaps  her  silence  struck  Frau  Lange  as  con- 
temptuous ;  at  any  rate,  she  seemed  to  feel  discomfited 
by  it.  But  presently,  when  Auguste  brought  in  a  tray 
with  liqueurs  and  cakes,  her  mistress'  tongue  began  to 
wag  again.  Her  hospitality  in  dispensing  aniseed 
biscuits  was  oppressive ;  and  her  nieces  knew  that  she 
felt  bitterly  offended  because  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Theodore 
refused  the  treasures  of  her  storeroom. 

"We  must  get  back,"  said  Mrs.  Theodore  at  last. 
"We  are  going  to  dine  with  some  people  you  know  to- 
night— with  the  Werners.  I  say  to-night,  but,  of 
course,  I  mean  at  half-past  five.  Isn't  it  droll?  It 
takes  one  back  to  the  last  century.  I  feel  as  if  I  ought 
to  wear  powder  and  patches.  Stanley  says  I  must 
wear  a  high  frock.  Don't  you  find  that  a  bore?  I 
hate  a  high  frock  at  night — and  in  these  stuffy  German 
rooms.  We  are  to  meet  Herr  Hansen.  Do  you 
remember  him?  A  stout  old  party  who  will  play 
Bach's  fugues  at  you." 

"Herr  Hansen  is  an  intimate  friend  of  mine,"  said 
Frau  Lange  officiously.  Mrs.  Theodore  looked  as  if 
she  could  hardly  believe  it. 

"I  hope  I  shall  be  spared  the  fugues  to-night,"  she 
said,  stifling  a  yawn.  "I  am  sure  we  shall  be  stodgy 
enough  without  them.  Tell  Mrs.  Frere  we  are  sorry 
not  to  have  seen  her,  Hilary.  When  are  you  all  com- 
ing back  to  London?  You  and  Nell  don't  look  as  if 
German  life  suited  you." 

After  the  fashion  of  her  kind,  Mrs.  Theodore  rustled 
out  of  the  room  without  waiting  for  an  answer  to  her 
questions.  Hilary  followed  her,  but  returned  as 
quickly  as  she  could.  She  found  Frau  Lange  by  her- 
self, engaged  in  extinguishing  the  lamps  and  packing 
away  the  cakes  and  the  liqueurs.  Directly  she  saw 


flews  from  England  211 

her  niece  she  began  to  complain  of  Mrs.  Theodore's 
insolent  behavior.  Hilary  did  not  stop  to  listen.  She 
flew  upstairs  to  her  mother's  room. 

"Where  is  Nell?"  she  said,  seeing  that  Mrs.  Frere 
was  alone. 

"She  came  in  like  a  whirlwind,  picked  up  her  hat 
and  cloak,  and  went  out  again,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 
"What  is  the  matter,  Hilary?  Don't  you  go  off  too. 
I  "have  been  alone  for  hours  to-day.  What  did  the 
Theodores  come  for?  To  bring  bad  news?" 

Hilary  looked  doubtfully  at  her  mother,  uncertain 
how  she  would  endure  the  shock,  wondering  whether 
she  ought  to  be  guarded  from  it;  but  this  was  impos- 
sible. Mrs.  Frere  knew  when  her  children  were  in 
trouble.  She  saw  grief  and  dismay  in  Hilary's  face 
the  moment  the  girl  came  into  the  room.  That  much 
insight  her  love  of  them  made  easy. 

"What  is  it,  dear?"  she  said,  and  the  young, 
unhappy  creature  could  not  resist  the  chance  of  taking 
her  sorrow  to  the  mother  who  would  share  it. 

"Arthur  Preston  is  going  to  marry  Sophia  Theo- 
dore," she  said. 

The  two  women  looked  at  each  other  forlornly. 
Mrs.  Frere  had  been  mending  one  of  Nell's  shoes  for 
her;  she  put  it  down  now,  and  her  blue,  tender  eyes 
filled  and  flowed  over  with  tears. 

"My  poor  child!"  she  said. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

CHRISTMAS   WITH    AUNT    BERTHA. 

PRESENTLY  Nell  came  back,  her  clothes  powdered 
with  snow,  her  hair  blown  about,  her  face  set  in  pain. 
She  appeared  for  a  moment  in  the  doorway  and 
beckoned  to  her  sister. 

"Have  you  told  her?"  she  whispered,  when  Hilary 
came  near. 

"Yes." 

"What  does  she  say?  I  wish  she  would  not  talk 
about  it.  I  hate  to  talk  about  it." 

The  sisters  were  standing  together  in  the  unlighted 
passage,  and  Hilary  could  not  see  Nell's  face,  but  her 
tone  was  one  of  extreme  nervous  exasperation. 

"She  did  not  see  you  come  in,"  said  Hilary.  "She 
is  lying  down.  Shall  we  go  into  the  dining  room?" 

They  moved  away  together,  and  went  into  the  pitch- 
dark,  chilly  room  where,  without  much  stumbling, 
they  found  two  chairs. 

"What  does  she  say?"  asked  Nell  again. 

"She  cries." 

"I  don't.  I  laugh.  To  think  that  Sophia  and  I 
should  run  a  race,  and  that  Sophia  should  beat  me ! 
I  always  pitied  her." 

"I  pity  her  now,"  said  Hilary.  "She  is  going  to 
be  married  for  her  money. ' ' 

"I  wish  I  was,"  said  Nell.  "Apparently  it  is  the 
only  thing  in  the  world  worth  having." 

Hilary  was  silent. 

"The  disgrace  of  it!"  continued  Nell,  speaking  in 
the  same  tone  of  intense  exasperation;  "to  be  jilted, 
deserted,  thrown  aside ;  but  why  should  the  disgrace 


Cbri0tma0  witb  Bunt  JBertba.  213 

be  mine?  How  unjust!  Everyone  will  point  at  me, 
not  at  him.  They  will  crowd  to  his  wedding." 

"No  disgrace  falls  on  you,  Nell,"  said  her  sister. 
"No  one  you  need  consider  will  point  at  you.  Be- 
sides, we  are  here — you  will  neither  see  nor  hear 
them." 

"O  Hilary,  do  you  need  to  be  there  to  see  and 
hear?  Don't  you  know  what  everyone  will  say? 
What  a  foolish  girl  I  was  to  get  myself  talked  about — 
to  have  let  a  man  who  had  no  intention  of  marrying 
me  entangle  my  name  with  his.  How  is  a  girl  to 
guess  a  man  has  'no  intentions'  when  he  pursues  her? 
Is  she  to  take  every  man  for  a  liar?  He  made  me 
love  him.  I  did  not  think  much  about  him  until  I 
saw  that  he  was  in  love  with  me." 

"Of  course  he  would  make  that  his  excuse.  He 
would  say  that  he  did  care  for  you,  and  that  nothing 
but  the  want  of  money  prevented  your  marriage." 

"  A  fine  excuse.  '  God  made  him,  and  therefore  let 
him  pass  for  a  man.'  But  you  are  right ;  he  did  care — 
I  know  that.  I  cared  too.  Everyone  knows  that. 
How  intolerable!" 

"Is  that  thought  the  most  intolerable?"  said 
Hilary,  half  to  herself. 

"Of  course  not,"  rejoined  Nell  fiercely.  "I  am 
trying  to  tear  the  other  out  of  my  heart.  Don't 
hinder  me;  help  me  to  hate  him,  to  forget  that  I 
want  him."  Her  voice  broke,  halted,  and  then 
turned  hard  again.  "At  the  present  moment  he  is 
probably  buying  carpets  with  Sophia.  How  could 
she  consent!  It  would  never  have  happened  if  we 
had  not  left  England.  If  I  could  only  go  back  now 
I  might  stop  it ;  I  might  get  him  back.  Why  should 
women  sit  still  and  never  say  a  word,  while  all  they 
care  for  is  filched  from  them?  Why  should  they  not 
fight?" 

"I  should  not  fight  for  Arthur  Preston  now  that  he 
has  behaved  like  this,"  said  Hilary  proudly.  "He  is 
a  deserter.  Don't  let  him  hear  you  call  him.  Sup- 
pose he  should  not  come  ? " 


214  tlbe  Grasshoppers. 

"Suppose  he  should  ?  "  said  Nell.  "  Of  course  it  is 
impossible,"  she  added,  after  a  pause,  and  without 
saying  anything  more  she  got  up  wearily  and  went 
into  the  bedroom.  Hilary  did  not  follow  her  for 
some  time.  When  she  rejoined  her  mother  and  sister 
she  saw  that  they  had  both  been  crying. 

During  the  next  few  days  Hilary  felt  really  anxious 
about  Nell.  The  girl  seemed  to  dwindle  and  pine. 
Her  face  did  not  lose  its  look  of  dazed  excitement. 
She  watched  all  day  long  for  something  that  never 
came,  and  Hilary  felt  sure  she  cherished  a  vague, 
unsettling  hope  of  a  message  or  a  letter  from  Arthur. 
It  was  pitiful  to  see  her,  and  to  know  that  nothing 
could  be  done. 

'  Mrs.  Frere,  after  the  first  shock  of  surprise  and 
concern,  seemed  to  find  consolation  in  harking  back 
to  her  old  prophecies  about  Arthur  and  Sophia.  She 
had  always  expected  Mrs.  Theodore  to  bring  this 
marriage  about,  she  said  to  Hilary. 

"And,  after  all,  he  is  not  the  only  man  in  the 
world.  We  are  here  now.  Do  you  think  Nell  would 
like  to  live  in  Germany?" 

"I  don't  know;  but  I  imagine  that  no  one  will 
invite  her  to  do  so;  besides,  she  is  very  unhappy. 
You  cannot  expect  her  to  think  of  anyone  else  for 
years." 

"But  surely  neither  of  you  would  refuse  a  good 
offer  of  marriage  now  that  we  are  in  such  terrible 
straits?  What  would  you  say  of  a  man  who  threw  up 
profitable  work  when  his  family  was  starving?  It  is 
just  the  same." 

"Oh,  no!"  said  Hilary,  "it  cannot  be." 

"Where  is  the  difference?" 

"I  would  gladly  work." 

"My  dear  child,  in  my  opinion  a  woman's  vocation 
is  marriage.  Those  who  miss  it  are  failures.  No 
woman  would  work  unless  she  was  driven  to  it,  and 
when  she  does  she  is  half  starved,  because  she  is  a 
woman  and  cannot  get  well  paid.  The  only  bearable 
life  for  a  woman  in  this  world  is  to  depend  on  a  man. 


Gbrfstmas  witb  aunt  JBertba.  215 

You  may  talk,  and  write,  and  flounder  as  much  as 
you  please,  and  in  the  end  you  will  come  back  to  that; 
because  Nature  made  it  so.  It  isn't  her  only  blunder. 
Why  are  we  in  such  a  plight?  because  we  have  no 
man  belonging  to  us.  And  whose  business  is  it  to 
bring  men  into  the  family  again?  I  have  done  my 
part.  I  had  the  best  husband,  and  you  the  best 
father,  that  ever  lived.  We  miss  him  at  every  turn." 

This  kind  of  talk  did  not  exactly  convince  Hilary, 
nor  did  it  encourage  her.  It  chiefly  served  to  remind 
her  of  the  many  instances  in  which  women  are  hin- 
dered rather  than  helped  by  men.  She  thought  of 
able  women  linked  with  fools;  thrifty  women  by 
wastrels ;  good  women  broken-hearted  for  the  sake  of 
husbands  and  sons.  She  knew  that  out  in  the  world 
thousands  of  women  were  shifting  for  themselves; 
some  stumbling  and  weary,  some  trudging  bravely  on- 
ward to  success,  buoyed  through  their  difficulties  by 
the  consciousness  of  work  well  done.  In  this  army 
of  workers  she  would  gladly  have  enlisted,  had  she 
only  known  how. 

Meanwhile,  Christmas  was  at  their  doors.  In  Frau 
Lange's  house  the  preparations  for  it  were  elaborate 
and  economical.  The  only  approach  to  a  feast  prom- 
ised to  be  the  supper  on  Christmas  Eve,  when  Herr 
Hansen  would  be  with  them.  For  this  meal  Frau 
Lange  screwed  herself  up  to  an  unusual  outlay.  She 
admitted  to  her  nieces  that  he  had  practically  invited 
himself,  to  her  surprise.  She  explained  to  them  that 
Germans  like  to  spend  Christmas  Eve  in  the  bosom  of 
their  families.  In  her  opinion,  his  action  was  tanta- 
mount to  a  declaration  that  he  regarded  her  house  as 
his  home. 

"But  he  has  two  homes  of  his  own,"  objected  Nell. 

"A  bachelor  may  have  twenty  houses,  but  he  can't 
have  a  home,"  retorted  Aunt  Bertha.  "Home  means 
affection,  peace,  comfort,  order.  How  can  a  man 
have  those  without  a  wife?" 

"I  suppose  they  are  not  a  matter  of  course  with  a 
wife?" 


2i6  tTbe  ©rassboppets. 


"With  a  German  wife  they  are,"  said  Aunt  Bertha. 

On  Christmas  Eve,  after  a  long  day  of  bustle, 
noise,  and  irritation,  the  Freres  descended  to  the 
"best"  room  to  wait  for  the  expected  guest.  Whether 
everything  stood  in  order  yet  they  did  not  know. 
There  had  been  fuss  enough  to  prepare  for  an  army. 
Even  Mrs.  Frere  had  been  pressed  into  her  sister-in- 
law's  service,  and  requested  to  rub  up  some  plate 
seldom  brought  out  for  use.  Hilary  had  found  her 
feebly  trying  to  do  it,  and  had  taken  it  indignantly 
away.  Her  own  arm  ached  with  whipping  eggs  for  a 
cake,  but  she  managed  to  polish  the  plate,  and  with 
Nell's  help  to  make  their  own  beds  and  put  their  own 
room  in  order.  Auguste  could  never  be  spared  now- 
adays to  perform  any  service  for  them.  The  girls 
lived  in  expectation  of  being  asked  to  clean  out  their 
own  stove  and  black  their  own  boots.  They  would 
both  have  been  glad  enough  to  help  in  a  well-man- 
aged, well-behaved  household,  but  from  Aunt 
Bertha's  kitchen  they  always  came  up  tired  and  dis- 
gusted. To-day  it  had  been  worse  than  usual,  they 
told  Mrs.  Frere;  for  the  first  time  their  aunt  had 
stamped  her  feet  and  shaken  her  fists  at  them  as  well 
as  at  Auguste.  Nell  had  spoiled  an  egg  by  failing  to 
separate  the  white  from  the  yolk.  Hilary  had  not 
known  how  to  core  whole  apples.  Such  good-for- 
nothing  girls  had  never  cumbered  the  earth.  They 
were  sent  from  the  kitchen  to  dust  the  "best"  room; 
chivied  from  there  to  the  upper  floor  ;  asked  to  come 
down  in  a  hurry  and  trim  the  tree;  sent  out  in  a  snow- 
storm to  buy  sixpenny-worth  of  wax  candles;  abused 
in  high  German  and  low  German  because  they  showed 
some  surprise  when  they  heard  that  no  meal  would  be 
served  that  day  at  the  usual  dinner  time.  Early  in  the 
afternoon  Nell  revolted  and  went  out  for  a  walk  by 
herself.  Hilary  stayed  behind  and  trimmed  the  tree. 
Nothing  had  been  bought  for  it  but  the  cheapest  of 
sweetmeats,  and  gilded  nuts  and  apples,  but,  in  Hilary's 
opinion,  that  heightened  its  charm.  It  looked,  when  it 
was  finished,  like  a  tree  in  a  picture  to  a  German  fairy 


Cbrtetmas  witb  Bunt  JSettba.  217 

tale.  If  her  aunt  could  have  left  her  alone,  she  would 
have  enjoyed  getting  it  ready. 

Mrs.  Frere  dressed  and  went  downstairs  on  Christ- 
mas Eve,  although  she  felt  hardly  well  enough  to  do 
so.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  left  her  bedroom 
since  the  day  of  Dick's  visit.  Her  daughters  hovered 
about  her  with  extra  wraps,  in  mortal  fear  of  draughts. 
When  they  reached  the  first-floor  landing  they 
encountered  Frau  Lange  in  her  war  paint,  a  black  silk 
skirt  trimmed  with  dabby  lace,  and  a  velvet  bodice 
that  would  hardly  contain  her.  She  preceded  them 
into  the  "best"  room,  and,  as  she  threw  open  the 
door,  gave  vent  to  a  shout  that  presaged  an  uncom- 
fortable quarter  of  an  hour.  Auguste  had  lighted  the 
lamps  some  time  ago,  turned  them  up  high,  and  never 
looked  at  them  since.  Of  course  they  had  filled  the 
air  with  smoke,  and  poisoned  it  with  the  stench  of 
burned  petroleum,  while  a  fine  black  soot  had  settled 
on  everything  in  the  room.  The  windows  had  to  be 
thrown  open  before  anyone  could  see  or  breathe  there, 
and  then  Frau  Lange  found  that  the  floor,  the  furni- 
ture, the  very  walls  were  coated  with  black  dust.  Her 
wrath  rose  to  the  occasion.  Mrs.  Frere  fled  before  it, 
confused  by  the  noise.  The  girls  helped  to  set  things 
to  rights  again.  Auguste  sat  on  the  floor  and  howled. 

Hilary  proposed  that  they  should  give  up  the  use 
of  this  room  for  the  evening,  and  sit  in  the  small  one 
opening  out  of  it;  but  her  aunt  did  not  accept  the 
suggestion.  The  unlighted  tree,  and  all  the  Christ- 
mas presents  were  there,  and  it  was  quite  impossible 
to  open  the  doors  until  Herr  Hansen  arrived.  When 
Mrs.  Frere  came  downstairs  again  she  unfortunately 
made  the  same  proposal. 

"What  your  daughters  say  matters  nothing," 
explained  Frau  Lange;  "but  you  are  as  much  a  Ger- 
man as  I  am,  and  will  never  be  anything  else.  I  agree 
with  the  Emperor — people  who  do  not  like  Germany 
had  better  go  out  of  it.  What  would  Herr  Hansen 
think  if  we  lighted  our  tree  before  he  came?  I  am 
sure  he  would  say,  'My  dear  old  friend,  Frau  Lange, 


(Brassboppers. 

has  lost  her  manners  since  those  barbarous  English 
arrived.'  When  he  comes  we  shall  sit  still,  and  have 
a  little  conversation  and  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  when  the 
clock  strikes  eight  we  shall  celebrate  Christmas.  In 
my  letter  to  him  I  put  it  in  an  amusing  way — a  woman 
should  always  write  with  esprit.  I  said  we  should 
have  coffee  at  seven,  a  Christmas  tree  at  eight,  and  a 
roast  goose  at  nine,  afterward  music.  That  is  my 
programme,  and  in  my  own  house  I  suppose  I  may 
keep  to  it." 

While  Frau  Lange  held  forth,  she  paced  up  and 
down  the  room  with  a  duster  in  her  hand,  and  every 
now  and  then  she  stopped  speaking  while  she  removed 
the  soot  from  a  vase,  a  picture,  or  an  imitation  palm. 
The  worst  lines  in  her  face  showed  plainly  this  even- 
ing. She  had  been  too  angry  to  smooth  down  in  a 
hurry,  nor  did  her  heightened  color  fade  away  before 
Herr  Hansen  came.  When  he  arrived  he  had  a  large 
formal  bouquet  in  his  hand,  which  he  presented  to  his 
hostess.  Auguste  followed  him  with  an  immense 
round  parcel;  this  he  presented  to  Mrs.  Frere.  It 
contained  a  cake  of  Ltibeck  Marzipan,  about  eighteen 
inches  in  diameter,  and  piled  high  with  fruit  made  of 
the  famous  almond  paste,  and  colored  like  life.  Frau 
Lange  did  not  look  over  pleased.  The  Marzipan 
must  have  cost  ten  times  as  much  as  the  flowers. 
However,  she  told  Herr  Hansen  that  she  felt  flattered 
at  receiving  flowers  instead  of  a  costly  present,  be- 
cause it  showed  that  he  appreciated  her  delicacy  of 
character.  She  valued  a  gift  for  the  giver's  sake,  and 
not  on  account  of  the  coins  paid  out  for  it.  Herr 
Hansen  would  not  refuse  a  cup  of  coffee.  She  could 
assure  him  she  bought  her  coffee  at  the  best  shop  in 
Hamburg. 

Herr  Hansen  took  the  cup  she  offered  him,  and  with 
some  difficulty  carried  it  safely  to  his  lips — in  the 
excess  of  her  hospitality  she  had  filled  it  to  overflow- 
ing. She  had  served  him  first,  and  then  Mrs.  Frere. 
When  she  had  poured  out  some  for  her  nieces  she 
signed  to  them  to  fetch  their  own  cups,  but  as  they 


Cbriatmas  vvitb  Bunt  JBertba.  219 

rose  she  pointed  to  several  plates  with  little  cakes, 
and  asked  them  why  they  had  not  long  ago  handed 
these  to  Herr  Hansen.  Young  girls,  she  said,  should 
always  be  prompt  and  serviceable.  The  young  girls 
in  question  took  up  the  cakes  and  offered  them  first  to 
their  mother.  Herr  Hansen  rose  from  his  chair  with 
the  intention  of  helping  himself,  but  his  hostess  waved 
him  away. 

"Sit  down,  my  dear  friend,  sit  down!"  she  cried. 
"Allow  my  guest  to  wait  on  himself  when  there  are 
two  young  girls  in  the  room !  We  have  not  come  to 
that  yet,  I  am  thankful  to  say.  We  women  still  know 
our  place.  We  are  happy  to  serve  men  we  honor. 
Allow  me  to  present  you  with  a  home-made  honey 
cake,  Herr  Hansen.  I  baked  them  myself,  so  I  know 
what  is  in  them." 

Herr  Hansen  took  a  honey  cake,  but  he  turned  to 
Mrs.  Frere  and  engaged  her  in  conversation.  The 
girls  thought  he  did  not  treat  Fran  Lange  as  if  he  con- 
sidered her  a  "dear  old  friend."  He  looked  at  her 
as  if  he  rather  wondered  whether  she  would  bite,  and 
his  manner  to  her  was  one  of  polite  and  dignified 
endurance.  A  little  before  eight  she  disappeared 
from  the  room,  but  no  one  could  mistake  her  where- 
abouts, because  she  had  occasion  to  express  her  opinion 
of  Auguste  on  the  other  side  of  the  folding  doors. 
When  these  were  thrown  open  the  Christmas  tree,  blaz- 
ing with  the  combined  light  of  a  shilling's  worth  of 
wax  candles,  met  the  view  of  her  guests.  Frau  Lange 
stood  near  it  and  awaited  their  approach. 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  Christmas  tree  before?"  said 
Herr  Hansen  to  Nell. 

"I  never  saw  one  like  this,"  said  Nell  enigmatically. 
The  usual  interchange  of  presents  followed.  Mrs. 
Frere,  in  response  to  several  unmistakable  hints,  had 
bought  her  sister-in-law  a  handsome  tapestry  table- 
cloth. Frau  Lange  accepted  it  graciously,  although 
she  pointed  out  that  the  colors  did  not  quite  match 
with  her  carpet  and  curtains.  But  she  admitted  in 
an  aside  to  Herr  Hansen  she  was  exceptionally  fas- 


tidious.  She  was  born  with  right  feeling  for  color. 
Herr  Hansen  said  he  had  proof  of  this  in  the  cigar  case 
she  had  embroidered  for  him.  The  girls  stared  rue- 
fully at  their  aunt's  gifts  to  them — two  clumsily 
shaped  tippets  of  the  cheapest,  most  ragged-looking 
fur.  Mrs.  Frere  had  to  thank  Frau  Lange  for  a 
shawl,  which  was  striped  like  a  zebra  and  rather  thin. 
Hilary  thought  her  aunt  must  be  one  of  those  people 
who  purchase  what  no  one  else  will — such  things  as 
you  see  in  shops,  with  wonder  that  anyone  can  be 
found  to  carry  them  away. 

When  the  five  grown-up  people  had  stood  about 
near  the  tree  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  four  of  them 
felt  inclined  to  sit  down  again  in  the  larger  room. 
The  two  girls  strolled  back  there  first  of  all,  and  by 
doing  so  gave  offense  to  Frau  Lange. 

"In  my  opinion,"  she  said  to  Herr  Hansen, 
"young  girls  should  be  like  lambs  in  spring,  always 
ready  to  frisk  and  caper.  My  sisters  and  I  used  to 
dance  round  the  Christmas  tree  and  singsongs;  and 
the  poetry  we  wrote  on  an  occasion  like  the  present ! 
My  verses  always  brought  tears  to  the  eyes.  My 
youngest  sister  had  a  different  talent.  She  made  puns 
and  jokes,  most  witty  jokes,  I  assure  you;  but  my 
nieces  can  do  nothing.  It  is  as  if  they  had  received 
no  education  at  all.  You  may  exert  yourself  in  the 
highest  degree  to  provide  them  a  pleasure,  and  they 
hardly  trouble  themselves  to  look  at  it.  I  am  grieved 
to  see  young  people  so  blast.  I  think,  Helena,  that 
one  of  your  children  might  have  composed  a  poem  to 
present  with  your  tablecloth,  just  as  an  expression  of 
gratitude.  It  would  have  cost  them  nothing  but  a 
little  ink  and  paper." 

"We  never  thought  of  it,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  regret- 
fully. "Hilary  is  very  fond  of  reading  poetry,  but 
I  have  never  known  her  write  it." 

"That  is  just  what  I  say,"  answered  Frau  Lange; 
"they  won't  do  anything  that  takes  trouble.  I  don't 
know  what  you  spent  on  their  education,  but  the 
results  are  very  poor — very  poor  indeed." 


Cbtfstmas  witb  aunt  JSertba.  221 

Mrs.  Frere  sighed  and  joined  her  daughters.  She 
did  not  know  how  she  could  put  her  sister-in-law  in 
the  wrong,  but  she  wished  it  was  possible.  Unfor- 
tunately, the  girls  did  seem  out  of  spirits  this  evening. 
Their  aunt  had  ruffled  them  all  day,  and  all  day 
memories  of  many  a  happy  Christmas  had  floated 
across  their  minds  in  melancholy  contrast  with  the 
present  one.  Last  year  their  father  had  lived  and 
loved  them. 

Herr  Hansen  must  have  guessed  at  this,  because, 
about  half  an  hour  later,  when  Frau  Lange  left  the 
room,  presumably,  as  Nell  said  to  her  mother,  to 
baste  the  roast  goose,  he  followed  Hilary  into  the 
smaller  room  and  said  to  her: 

"Last  Christmas  my  dear  mother  was  still  alive. 
It  is  the  same  with  you.  A  year  ago  your  father 
lived  still.  I  had  many  invitations  for  to-night.  I  did 
not  know  where  to  go.  Then  I  remembered  that  you, 
too,  would  be  sad  and  not  merry,  so  I  came  here." 

"I  have  been  wondering  all  the  evening  why  you 
came  here"  said  Hilary. 

They  were  hidden  by  the  tree  from  the  eyes  of  Mrs. 
Frere  and  Nell  in  the  other  room,  and  their  voices 
were  covered  by  the  twang  of  Nell's  banjo.  She  had 
begun  to  strum  the  accompaniment  of  an  old  song  for 
which  her  mother  had  asked,  and  which  she  had  half 
forgotten.  The  melody  and  the  words  came  back  to 
her  in  snatches. 

Hilary  had  not  expected  Herr  Hansen  to  follow 
her.  She  had  left  him  on  the  sofa  next  to  her  mother 
when  she  sauntered  back  toward  the  tree  without  pur- 
pose. As  she  approached  it  she  thought  she  would 
look  at  her  hideous  fur  tippet  again,  and  perhaps  try 
it  on.  It  still  lay  on  a  table  behind  the  tree.  Herr 
Hansen  must  have  got  up  deliberately  to  join  her 
here. 

"I  can  take  care  of  myself,"  he  continued,  in  a 
musing  tone.  "My  trouble  is  of  the  soul  only;  but 
you,  and  your  sister,  and  your  mother — you  look  ill, 
YOU  are  not  happy  here,  I  am  sure," 


Cbe  <5ras8boppers. 

Hilary  hardly  knew  what  to  reply.  Herr  Hansen 
looked  at  her  out  of  his  kind,  honest  eyes,  and  said  in 
a  persuasive  voice: 

"Perhaps  you  have  changed  your  mind." 

The  girl  began  to  understand  what  was  coming,  and 
the  sudden  sight  of  it  took  her  breath  away.  This 
very  moment,  without  warning,  without  time  to  think, 
good  fortune  danced  her  way  again. 

"Have  you  ever  considered  what  I  said  to  you  in 
London?"  resumed  Herr  Hansen.  "Do  you  remem- 
ber it?" 

"Oh,  yes!  I  remember,"  said  Hilary.  She  heard 
Nell  singing  in  the  other  room.  She  heard  her 
mother's  voice  when  Nell  halted. 

"Can  you  not  give  me  another  answer  to-day?" 
said  Herr  Hansen,  with  mild  solemnity.  "Do  you 
not  see  now  that  it  is  best  to  marry?  I  should  take 
care  of  your  mother  and  sister  as  well  as  of  you." 

"I  believe  my  mother  is  dying,"  cried  Hilary,  from 
the  depths  of  her  misery;  "and  Nell  looks  like  a 
ghost." 

"I  know.  I  saw  Mrs.  Theodore,  and  she  told  me 
about  young  Preston.  A  contemptible  fellow!" 

"He  is  going  to  marry  for  money." 

"Yes;  after  showing  the  whole  world  that  he  loves 
your  sister.  It  is  contemptible." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  agreed  Hilary. 

"He  should  have  waited  and  worked." 

"Yes." 

Herr  Hansen  looked  at  the  girl  anxiously.  Her 
eyes  and  voice  were  dreamy,  and  she  seemed  to 
answer  her  own  thoughts  rather  than  his  spoken 
words. 

"It  is  different  for  women,"  he  continued;  "they 
cannot  work." 

"They  can  wait,"  said  Hilary,  with  ablush.  She 
felt  as  if  she  had  made  a  full  confession. 

"Even  that  is  not  always  convenient." 

"I  cannot  agree  with  you,  Herr  Hansen.  What 
holds  good  for  a  man  holds  good  for  a  woman.  To 


Gbristmas  witb  Sunt  JSertba.  223 

marry  for  money  is,  as  you  say,  contemptible.  At 
least  it  would  be  for  me." 

"But  we  are  very  good  friends.  We  get  on  well 
together." 

"Oh,  yes!     But " 

"I  am  sure  that  if  you  were  my  wife " 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  Hilary,  "it  is  impossible." 

He  saw  that  she  meant  what  she  said. 

"I  think  you  are  wrong,"  he  urged. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"I  am  right.  If  I  said  Yes,  you  would  be  entitled 
to  think  of  nie  as  you  do  of  Arthur  Preston." 

"My  dear  child,"  said  Herr  Hansen  affectionately, 
"the  cases  are  different.  A  young  girl  soon  learns  to 
love  her  husband.  I  want  to  take  care  of  you.  It 
grieves  me  to  see  you  here.  For  your  mother's  sake 
you  should  come  to  me." 

"Oh!  don't  say  that,"  cried  Hilary. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  he  watched  her  wrestle 
with  this  idea.  Finally  she  lifted  her  eyes  and  looked 
at  him  again. 

"I  cannot,"  she  said. 

He  did  not  speak,  but  she  saw  his  face  fall.  Nell's 
song  went  gayly  in  the  outer  room.  Hilary's  spirits 
were  not  raised  by  it.  She  began  to  think  of  all  she 
had  thrust  from  her,  to  wonder  whether  there  was 
anyone  on  earth  who  would  not  call  her  an  arrant  fool. 
Possibly  Dick  would  approve,  but  even  of  him  she 
could  not  feel  quite  sure.  On  the  brink  of  ruin  she 
had  refused  prosperity,  had  let  good  fortune  pass  her 
by.  To-morrow  despair  might  come  and  find  her 
unprotected.  How  difficult  sometimes  to  know  the 
nearest  duty.  Ought  she  to  have  acted  for  her 
mother's  comfort  instead  of  for  herself?  Hence- 
forward it  would  be  more  terrible  than  ever  to  see 
her  mother  want.  What  would  become  of  them  now? 

"Where  is  Herr  Hansen?"  cried  Frau  Lange, 
dashing  noisily  into  the  larger  room.  "Supper  is 
quite  ready;  but  imagine,  Helene,  when  I  went  down 
twenty  minutes  ago  I  found  the  goose  dished  up 


<3ras0bopper0. 

already  and  getting  cold.  With  that  girl  my  eyes 
have  to  be  everywhere  at  once.  Herr  Hansen,  allow 
me  to  show  you  the  way  upstairs  to  the  dining  room. 
You  have  seen  the  lights  in  my  house  before,  but  you 
have  never  been  in  the  dining  room.  You  must  not 
expect  too  much.  My  aim  is  to  have  everything  plain 
and  good.  I  do  not  care  for  display.  My  nieces 
wished  to  put  flowers  on  the  table,  but  I  would  not 
allow  it.  I  go  into  the  garden  when  I  want  flowers, 
and  to  the  dining  room  when  I  am  hungry.  It 
appears  to  me  that  a  roast  goose  and  a  white  camellia 
do  not  suit  each  other." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

NEW  YEAR'S  EVE. 

NOTHING  annoyed  Frau  Lange  more  than  to  be 
omitted  from  any  invitation  addressed  to  her  rela- 
tives and  guests.  The  Werners  always  gave  offense 
in  this  way.  They  were  evidently  determined  not  to 
accept  her.  Frau  Werner  had  never  yet  been  inside 
the  house.  She  had  returned  Mrs.  Frere's  visit,  and 
refused  to  go  in  when  she  heard  that  the  English 
ladies  were  not  at  home.  She  had  left  one  of  her  own 
cards  and  one  of  her  husband's  for  Mrs.  Frere.  Frau 
Lange  considered  this  behavior  most  impertinent. 
She  said  so  much  about  it  that  Nell  threatened  to 
frame  the  two  cards  and  present  them  to  her.  But 
every  civility  shown  to  them  sent  up  the  domestic 
storm  signals.  Frau  Lange  was  one  of  those  curious 
people  who  hanker  after  society  while  they  do  nothing 
to  gain  a  welcome  in  any  section  of  it. 

The  invitation  for  New  Year's  Eve  had  arrived  in 
due  course.  Frau  Werner  asked  Mrs.  Frere  and  her 
two  daughters. 

"I  cannot  go  out  at  night,"  Mrs.  Frere  said. 

"Shall  we  refuse?"  suggested  Hilary.  "Then  we 
need  say  nothing  about  it  to  Aunt  Bertha." 

But  Nell  seemed  inclined  to  accept,  and  when  Mrs. 
Frere  noticed  this,  she  insisted  that  the  two  girls  should 
go  by  themselves.  They  would  have  to  drive  back  in 
a  cab,  and  that  would  cost  a  good  deal,  but  a  little 
cheerful  society  would  do  Nell  all  the  good  in  the 
world.  So  the  invitation  was  accepted,  but  Aunt 
Bertha  did  not  hear  of  it  directly,  because  with  one 
accord  her  guests  put  off  the  unpleasant  task  of  telling 
her.  At  last,  when  the  day  itself  arrived,  she  led  up 


226  abe  <3ra0sbopper0, 

to  the  subject.  She  expressed  a  hope  that  the  whole 
household  would  follow  her  example  and  go  to  bed,  as 
usual,  that  night,  at  ten  o'clock. 

"We  cannot,"  said  Hilary.  "We  have  promised 
to  spend  the  evening  at  the  Werners'." 

"When?  How?  Why  was  I  not  told?  It  is  quite 
impossible  unless  you  sleep  there.  You  must  certainly 
sleep  there." 

"We  have  not  been  asked  to  do  so,"  said  Hilary. 

"Of  course  not!  If  there  is  any  discomfort  or 
inconvenience  it  must  fall  on  me.  Who  do  you  sup- 
pose is  going  to  sit  up  half  the  night  and  let  you  in?" 

"No  one  need;  we  can  take  a  key." 

That  remark  hurried  on  the  explosion  bound  to 
come.  It  scandalized  Aunt  Bertha.  Was  she  to 
leave  the  front  door  unbolted,  and  be  murdered  in  her 
bed?  Not  while  the  house  belonged  to  her.  Nor 
could  she  allow  two  young  girls  to  shelter  under  her 
decorous  roof  after  running  about  Hamburg,  at  mid- 
night, on  New  Year's  Eve.  She  supposed  they  meant 
to  walk  home?  They  did  not  contemplate  spending, 
no  one  knew  what,  on  a  cab,  when  it  was  very  doubt- 
ful whether  they  had  enough  in  their  pockets  for  the 
doctor's  bill?  They  did  contemplate  that  prepos- 
terous piece  of  extravagance?  Then  she  had  nothing 
more  to  say.  Auguste  should  certainly  sit  up  for 
them ;  the  key  she  refused  altogether.  It  did  not 
matter  much,  as  it  was  only  for  once.  Next  New 
Year's  Eve  would  see  them  all  in  the  workhouse. 
Charity  and  good  nature  had  its  limits.  She  had  given 
her  sister-in-law  the  most  generous  of  welcomes,  but 
she  could  not  forever  harbor  three  people  incapable 
of  thirft,  of  effort,  or  even  of  gratitude.  Besides,  by 
next  year  her  circumstances  might  have  greatly  altered, 
and  even  if  they  were  far  more  affluent,  her  power  of 
hospitality  would  be  circumscribed.  At  present  she 
felt  free  to  give  her  liberal  impulses  full  scope,  but  if 
ever  she  had  another  person's  comfort  to  consider, 
she  might  be  obliged  to  stifle  her  natural  bent,  which 
was  all  toward  open-handedness  and  benevolence. 


flew  gear's  Hvc.  227 

Hilary  hardly  listened,  and  made  no  reply.  In  her 
aunt's  reproaches  there  was  a  grain  of  truth  more 
painful  than  all  the  silly  fault-finding  with  which  she 
wearied  their  ears.  Mrs.  Frere  and  Nell  were  incap- 
able of  thrift,  and  the  consequences  of  their  folly  fell 
with  equal  force  on  the  three  women  so  closely  con- 
nected by  habit  and  affection.  Hilary  could  not 
separate  herself  from  her  mother  and  sister,  and  bid 
them  hurry  to  the  workhouse  if  they  would,  while  she 
toiled  arduously,  honorably  upward.  She  meant, 
indeed,  to  set  to  work  somewhere,  somehow,  directly 
she  got  the  chance ;  but  how  to  get  it  still  perplexed 
her,  was  still  an  unsolved  problem.  The  working 
world  pictured  itself  in  her  mind  as  a  crowd  from 
which  she  was  relentlessly  shut  out,  and,  to  force  an 
entry,  grit  and  time  and  knowledge  would  be  required. 
She  had  neither  time  nor  knowledge,  and  there  were 
dark  hours  in  which  her  present  idleness  looked  like 
want  of  grit.  By  now  she  should  have  found  some- 
one in  Hamburg  to  pay  her  for  something  she  could 
do.  Where  were  the  children  she  might  have  taught? 
the  invalid  lady  she  could  have  tended?  the  counter 
behind  which  she  ought  to  serve?  or  was  there,  in 
England,  any  more  inviting  career  for  which  her  train- 
ing fitted  her?  And  so  her  thoughts  traveled  on  the 
old,  old  round  again,  and  halted  as  usual  at  her  own 
absurd  incompetence. 

The  discomfort  caused  by  Frau  Lange's  unbearable 
temper  reached  a  climax  on  this,  the  last  day  of  the 
year.  After  the  second  breakfast  Nell  rushed  out  in 
a  storm  of  wind  and  rain  to  escape  from  it,  and  wild 
as  the  weather  was  Hilary  felt  relieved  to  see  her  go. 
She  dreaded  an  outbreak  that  would  drive  them  from 
the  only  roof  willing  to  afford  them  a  shelter.  It  was 
very  unheroic,  she  knew — to  be  anxious  for  a  longer 
sojourn  in  conditions  so  sordid,  so  ignoble;  but  their 
little  store  of  money  would  melt  still  more  quickly 
in  lodgings  than  it  did  here.  Besides,  Mrs.  Frere  was 
unfit  both  for  a  sudden  removal  into  rougher  quarters 
or  for  the  agitation  of  a  real  breach  with  her  sister-in- 


228  abe  Grasshoppers. 

law.  That  it  might  come  to  this,  if  Nell  lost  her 
temper,  there  could  be  no  doubt.  They  lived  on  the 
thinnest  ice,  and  to  step  with  unceasing  self-restraint 
and  care  often  seemed  too  much  for  the  girl's  shaken 
nerves,  for  her  embittered  spirit.  Once  or  twice,  of 
late,  she  had  started  up  from  table  in  the  midst  of  a 
meal  and  fled  from  the  room,  leaving  Hilary  to  make 
any  excuses  she  could.  She  turned  white  and  angry 
at  the  mere  sound  of  her  aunt's  scolding  voice ;  she 
told  Hilary  she  understood  the  impulse  to  hurl  what  is 
handy  at  an  enemy. 

When  people  live  together  in  discord,  the  merest 
trifle  will  hurry  on  the  threatening  crash.  When  the 
foundations  are  rotten,  one  gust  will  help  the  edifice  to 
fall.  At  a  later  date  it  suited  Frau  Lange  to  say  that 
she  had  lived  with  her  relatives  in  peace  and  friend- 
ship, and  that  it  was  a  great  shock  to  her  to  discover 
how  unhappy  they  professed  to  have  been  under  her 
roof.  But,  of  course,  this  was  not  true.  For  many 
weeks  every  hour  had  tightened  the  strain,  every  meet- 
ing made  matters  a  little  worse.  Daily  companions 
cannot  find  each  other  insupportable  and  remain 
ignorant  of  the  fact.  It  must  betray  itself  at  every 
turn.  It  must,  at  any  rate,  have  been  plain  to  such  a 
vain  and  touchy  woman  as  Frau  Lange.  When  she  said 
she  had  not  perceived  it  she  lied. 

On  New  Year's  Eve  Nell  had  come  in  rather  late 
and  gone  to  the  bedroom  to  rest  before  dressing. 
Outside  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  melting  ice  and  snow 
into  slush.  The  country  roads  were  ankle-deep  in 
mud,  the  woods  had  been  almost  impassable.  The 
girl's  clothes  were  certainly  in  a  shocking  state.  Her 
skirt  fell  to  the  ground  with  a  swish  when  she  unfas- 
tened it,  her  hands  were  black  before  she  got  her  boots 
off;  she  wrung  rain-water  from  her  hair.  Mrs.  Frere 
pressed  her  to  take  quinine,  and  so  stave  off  a  cold. 
Hilary  helped  her  into  a  dressing  gown,  and  picked  up 
the  muddy  frock  in  dismay.  Would  it  ever  look  clean 
and  tidy  again? 

' '  Poor  people  ought  never  to  go  out  in  bad  weather, ' ' 


flew  gear's  £vc.  229 

she  said,  half  in  fun.     "Mud,  like  everything  else, 
costs  money.     You  have  ruined  this  gown." 

Nell  hardly  answered ;  at  the  moment  she  was 
struggling  with  her  boots.  Then,  being  dry  shod 
again,  she  began  to  brush  her  hair.  It  soon  separated 
into  little  rings  and  curls,  as  becoming  to  her  as  a 
mane  to  a  lion.  It  seemed  a  pity  that  she  should  ever 
twist  and  pin  it  into  a  smaller  space.  Hilary  offered 
to  try  and  arrange  it  in  the  fashionable  Hamburg  style, 
which  was  more  elaborate  and  artificial  than  the 
London  one,  but  which  Hamburg  people  naturally 
thought  more  becoming.  The  girls  were  still  debating 
the  question,  aided  by  advice  from  Mrs.  Frere,  who 
said  it  was  always  wise  to  be  a  Roman  in  Rome,  when 
one  of  the  doors  was  violently  opened  and  Frau  Lange 
appeared — in  a  rage. 

It  seemed  that  Nell  had  not  wiped  her  boots  suffi- 
ciently, or  not  held  her  skirts  high  enough  ;  at  any  rate, 
on  her  way  from  the  front  door  she  had  left  marks  of 
mud  upon  the  uncarpeted  stairs.  Frau  Lange  said 
that  Auguste  was  busy,  and  that  her  niece  must  at 
once  remove  them.  She  had  brought  a  wet  grimy 
looking  rag  for  the  purpose,  and  this  she  threw  toward 
Nell.  It  would  hardly  be  an  exaggeration  to  say  that 
she  threw  it  at  her.  It  fell  on  the  floor  close  to  the 
girl's  feet;  she  kicked  it  a  little  way  from  her  with  a 
grimace  and  an  exclamation  of  disgust.  Her  aunt 
told  her  to  pick  it  up  quickly,  but  Nell  did  not  stir. 
Frau  Lange  then  turned  to  her  sister-in-law. 

"Why  don't  you  speak  to  this  insolent  girl,  and  tell 
her  to  obey  me?  They  would  not  behave  as  they  do  if 
you  did  not  encourage  them.  You  should  see  the  mess 
she  made.  Auguste  washed  the  stairs  this  very  morn- 
ing, and  used  a  lot  of  soap.  Soap  is  expensive,  I  can 
assure  you ;  if  you  had  to  buy  it,  you  would  find  it  out. ' ' 

"Nell,  darling,"  began  Mrs.  Frere  feebly,  but  her 
daughter's  expression  checked  her.  "They  never  did 
such  things  at  home,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  apology, 
to  Frau  Lange.  "You  must  make  allowance  for  the 
customs  of  another  country." 


23°  TTbe  iSrassboppers. 

"It  is  not  that,"  said  Hilary,  forgetting  her  prudent 
anxiety  to  keep  the  peace.  "Aunt  Bertha  speaks  in 

such  a  way "  She  did  not  finish,  but  her  eyes 

flashed  with  anger. 

A  battle  royal  ensued.  Frau  Lange  said  that,  in 
her  own  house,  she  supposed  she  might  speak  as  she 
pleased;  but  her  nieces  rejoined  that,  in  their  opinion, 
some  decency  of  behavior  was  due  even  to  guests. 
They  had  stayed  too  long  in  the  house  to  be  considered 
guests?  Then  did  Aunt  Bertha  mean  that  she  felt 
free  to  insult  and  ill-treat  them  on  that  account; 
because,  if  these  were  her  curious  and  original  views, 
they  had  better  depart  to-morrow.  They  quite  be- 
lieved that  she  counted  the  hours  until  they  rid  her 
of  their  presence.  In  fact,  if  they  might  say  so,  her 
behavior  had  sometimes  led  them  to  suspect  as  much. 
What  had  they  to  complain  of?  Oh!  but  they  did 
not  complain.  She  could  see  for  herself  that  the 
joint  household  did  not  succeed  very  well.  The 
machinery  creaked  now  and  then.  Yes,  it  would  be 
difficult  no  doubt  to  find  her  match  for  generosity 
and  peaceableness ;  but  then  they  must  put  up  with 
something  inferior.  Frau  Lange  said  that  she  had 
opened  her  doors  to  them  when  their  own  home  broke 
in  pieces;  for  several  weeks  she  had  sheltered  and  fed 
them  out  of  her  own  pocket;  the  sum  they  paid  her 
now  for  board  hardly  covered  half  her  week's  bills. 
She  protested,  she  swore,  she  wished  she  might  die 
if  she  profited  a  penny  a  month  by  them.  But  it 
would  be  easy  to  ruin  herself  for  their  sakes,  and  yet 
not  reap  a  word  or  a  look  of  thanks.  That  was  what 
upset  her.  They  could  not  deny  that  nothing  pleased 
them ;  and  she,  on  the  other  hand,  would  confess  to 
anyone  who  asked  her  that  she  had  never  seen  girls  so 
entirely  spoiled  and  useless.  When  she  thought  of 
their  future  she  wept.  She  could  not  forget  that 
Helene  and  her  beloved  husband  had  been  brother 
and  sister.  She  wished  her  heart  was  less  tender,  but 
she  was  as  God  had  made  her,  and  some  people  were 
born  to  suffer.  She  would  now  go  and  wash  down 


Hew  H)ear'0  five.  231 

the  stairs  with  the  cloth  her  niece  refused  to  touch. 
She  was  fifty  years  old,  and  rheumatic,  but  she  would 
rather  her  back  ached  all  night  than  go  to  bed  in  a 
dirty  house.  She  took  no  particular  credit  to  herself 
for  acting  in  this  way ;  she  only  felt  grateful  to  her 
elders  for  having  brought  her  up  so  well. 

The  girls  knew  by  experience  that  their  aunt's  fits 
of  fury  were  soon  exhausted,  and  were  always  followed 
by  a  lachrymose  mood,  in  which  she  talked  of  her 
own  kind  heart  and  wished  to  patch  up  the  breach 
she  had  made  a  few  minutes  earlier.  Twenty-four 
hours  hardly  passed  without  some  scene  of  the  kind. 
They  were  both  sick  to  death  of  them.  By  this  time 
they  knew  the  truce  never  lasted  long.  They  watched 
Frau  Lange  stoop  stiffly  for  the  rag,  and  with  a  face 
that  was  still  very  red  and  angry  leave  the  room. 
Hilary  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  followed  her. 
She  thought  that,  if  this  disagreeable  piece  of  work 
must  really  be  done,  she  would  not  let  the  older  woman 
do  it.  She  had  made  her  protest ;  but  she  found  that 
while  her  aunt  scolded,  Auguste  had  removed  every 
speck  of  mud  to  be  seen.  Frau  Lange  looked  at  the 
spotless,  painted  stairs  in  disappointment. 

"The  impertinent  girl!"  she  cried;  "I  shall  give 
her  notice  at  once." 

Hilary  went  back  to  the  bedroom  and  shut  the  door. 

She  found  her  mother  anxious  and  unhinged.  She 
asked  what  would  become  of  them  now.  A  serious 
quarrel  with  their  aunt  was  a  new  and  irremediable 
misfortune.  She  did  not  blame  the  girls ;  she  ad- 
mitted that  Bertha  was  exasperating,  but  she  had  evi- 
dently made  up  her  mind  that  this  breach,  like  many 
earlier  smaller  ones,  must  be  patched  up.  She  thought 
she  would  make  peace  overtures  that  very  evening, 
and  she  wished  the  girls  would  dress  themselves  and 
go.  She  could  not  sleep  without  some  guarantee  that 
they  would  not  be  turned  out  of  doors  twenty-four 
hours  hence.  Of  course  they  might  go  into  lodgings, 
but  if  they  did  Hilary  must  promise  not  to  worry  over 
necessary  expenses.  Mrs.  Frere  did  not  like  the  idea 


232  ttbe  <5ra06bopper0. 

of  a  move,  though.  She  did  not  know  how  one  could 
be  undertaken  immediately,  as  she  had  hardly  any 
money  in  the  house.  She  must  write  to  London  for 
more  next  day.  Hilary  sighed  and  turned  silent  when 
her  mother  said  this.  Every  inroad  made  on  their 
little  fund  cost  her  a  pang. 

The  girls  went  into  Hamburg  by  a  crowded  tramcar, 
and  did  not  talk  much  to  each  other  on  the  way.  It 
cost  them  a  considerable  effort  to  start  at  all.  They 
were  not  in  the  humor  for  a  frolic ;  but  directly  they 
entered  Frau  Werner's  large  well-lighted  room  they 
felt  better.  Kindly  faces  greeted  them,  kindly  voices 
made  them  welcome.  The  whole  family  had  gathered 
there  and  some  intimate  friends.  Two  or  three  of 
the  older  ladies  expressed  great  disappointment  at  not 
seeing  Mrs.  Frere.  One  had  been  her  schoolfellow, 
another  had  been  confirmed  on  the  same  day,  a  third 
discovered  that  Nell's  figure  was  just  what  her  mother's 
used  to  be  thirty  years  ago.  For  a  little  while  the  girls 
found  themselves  the  center  of  attention,  comment, 
and  discussion.  They  knew  now  how  to  dress  for 
such  an  occasion  as  this,  and  wore  high  black  woolen 
gowns  and  gloves.  Nell  had  pinned  a  little  sprig  of 
holly  berries  at  her  throat,  a  touch  of  coquetry  that 
was  not  allowed  to  pass  without  remark. 

A  very  good  idea;  eccentric,  but  pleasing.  Why 
had  her  sister  not  done  likewise?  Their  mother  had 
always  shown  great  taste  in  dress.  Her  daughters  had 
not  inherited  her  brilliant  complexion ;  or  were  their 
pale  faces  the  effect  of  London  air?  Had  they  not 
been  very  glad  to  exchange  London  for  Hamburg? 
Did  they  not  find  German  life  very  easy,  very  com- 
fortable? But  they  spoke  German  with  an  English 
accent.  What  a  pity !  Surely  their  mother  never 
spoke  English  to  them?  Always?  What  a  sin  !  Why 
did  she?  German  is  a  much  finer  language — not  so 
mixed;  and  so  easy  to  pronounce  and  spell.  Could 
they  understand  everything  that  was  said  to  them  ? 
Could  they  read  a  simple  book? 

Hilary,   who  knew    her   Goethe    better   than   any 


flew  UJear'e  five.  233 

German  she  had  yet  met,  said,  Yes,  she  could  read  a 
simple  book. 

The  arrival  of  Herr  Hansen  diverted  public  attention 
from  her  for  a  time  and  she  sat  down  near  one  of  the 
windows,  where  Olga  Werner  soon  joined  her. 

"I  have  never  met  you  on  the  ice  again,"  said  the 
girl. 

"I  have  not  skated  once  since  that  afternoon  before 
Christmas,"  said  Hilary. 

"It  was  you  Mr.  Lorimer  had  gone  to  see.  I  did 
not  know  until  he  told  me  in  the  theater." 

"He  came  again  next  day.     We  saw  him  then." 

"He  is  going  to  New  York  very  soon." 

"Not  yet.     He  has  altered  his  plans." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"I  had  a  letter  from  him  the  other  day." 

Olga  looked  at  her  with  more  surprise  than  pleasure. 

"My  mother  would  not  let  me  receive  letters  from 
Mr.  Lorimer,  unless  I  was  engaged  to  him,"  she  said. 

"I  suppose  not,"  said  Hilary. 

"Is  it  different  in  England,  then?  Do  you  corre- 
spond with  all  the  young  men  you  know,  though  you 
are  not  betrothed  to  them?" 

Hilary  reflected  a  little  before  she  replied. 

"I  do  not  correspond  with  any  young  man  but  Mr. 
Lorimer,"  she  said,  after  a  pause.  "We  are  very  old 
friends.  I  am  not  betrothed  to  anyone." 

"Do  you  hope  that  you  will  marry  an  Englishman?" 

Again  Hilary  did  not  answer  at  once.  The  child's 
downright  questions  perplexed  her. 

"I  hope  that  I  shall,"  continued  Olga. 

"It  is  not  likely,  I  suppose,"  said  Hilary,  glad  to 
evade  the  inquiry  that  concerned  herself. 

"Why?  My  cousin  Pauline  married  one.  She  is 
very  happy." 

"Oh!   no  doubt,"  said  Hilary. 

"My  mother  does  not  approve  of  foreigners.  I 
prefer  them,"  said  Olga,  with  a  little  sigh. 

Just  then  an  invitation  reached  Hilary  to  join  in  a 
new  round  game  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  she 


234  Gbe  ©rassboppera. 

had  to  comply.  While  she  talked  she  had  watched  the 
company  separate  into  two  groups  and  settle  down  to 
their  amusements.  The  men  took  possession  of  the 
card-tables,  and  with  great  contentment  began  to  play 
Skat.  The  women  and  a  couple  of  schoolboys  gathered 
together  and  listened  to  Frau  Werner  while  she 
explained  the  new  and  diverting  game  of  nose-rings. 
The  preparation  for  it  seemed  to  be  simple  in  the 
extreme,  consisting  only  of  a  box  full  of  ordinary 
elastic  rings  and  the  printed  directions. 

"Each  player,"  said  Frau  Werner,  "must  fix  one  of 
the  elastic  rings  firmly  on  his  nose.  When  this  has 
been  successfully  accomplished  the  leader  gives  the 
word,  and  all  the  players  immediately  try  to  get  the 
rings  off  again  without  the  aid  of  their  hands.  Roars 
of  laughter  will  be  excited  by  the  grimaces  and  contor- 
tions of  the  players." 

Everyone  said  it  promised  to  be  a  most  entertaining 
game,  and,  to  the  astonishment  of  Hilary  and  Nell, 
everyone  with  cheerful  good  temper  put  a  ring  on  her 
nose  and  proceeded  to  make  ridiculous  efforts  to  get 
it  off  again.  There  was  no  doubt  about  the  laughter 
raised.  It  disturbed  the  skat-players,  who  stopped 
for  a  moment  between  two  rounds  and  looked  on  at 
the  grotesque  spectacle.  Nice  faces  and  pretty  faces 
were  twisted  into  unrecognizable  shapes  like  carnival 
masks.  Mouths  gaped  widely,  eyes  were  starting, 
noses  and  cheeks  were  strained  and  wrinkled,  yet  no 
one  seemed  to  think  the  diversion  undignified,  and  no 
one  but  the  two  English  girls  objected  to  share  in  it. 
They  did  not  like  to  state  their  objections  openly,  so 
they  cheated.  They  put  good-sized  rings  on  the  very 
tips  of  their  noses,  and  got  them  off  again  with  a  min- 
imum loss  of  self-respect.  But  even  so  their  cheeks 
were  hot,  and  as  they  watched  their  neighbors  they 
felt  more  inclined  to  pity  them  than  to  join  in  laughter. 

"You  never  saw  this  played  before?"  said  Herr 
Hansen,  who  had  given  up  his  hand  at  Skat  to  a  new- 
comer, and  seated  himself  at  Nell's  elbow. 

"No,"  said  Nell. 


flew  gear's  Bve.  235 

"It  is  quite  a  new  game  here,"  said  Olga  Werner. 

'  'Yes.  You  must  not  think  it  is  one  of  our  national 
games,"  said  Herr  Hansen,  addressing  Nell  again. 
He  seemed  rather  shy  of  Hilary  to-night. 

Nell  answered  with  vivacity,  and  drew  him  into  a 
brisk  conversation.  When  a  new  game  was  proposed, 
and  the  players  rearranged  themselves,  she  got  up  and 
went  to  a  window  at  some  little  distance  from  every- 
one else.  Herr  Hansen  followed  her  there.  The 
rain  had  ceased,  and  a  watery  moon  shone  down  on 
the  Alster.  The  gaslights  twinkled  on  either  bank  in 
city  and  suburb.  Everything  near  was  dripping  wet, 
and  at  a  little  distance  all  outlines  melted  into  the  mist. 
Hilary  could  see  her  sister's  face  when  she  turned  now 
and  then  toward  Herr  Hansen.  Its  expression  was 
not  reassuring.  The  girl  looked  excited  and  ill  at  ease. 
Many  glances  were  directed  toward  the  window  by 
Frau  Werner  and  her  friends — glances  of  surprise, 
and,  after  a  time,  of  displeasure.  Hilary  noticed  with 
growing  uneasiness  that  her  sister's  behavior  evidently 
gave  offense,  and,  when  the  game  allowed  it,  she  got 
up  with  the  intention  of  somehow  warning  Nell;  but 
she  was  too  late  to  do  any  good,  as  supper  was 
announced  before  she  reached  her  sister.  Everyone 
rose  and  went  into  the  dining  room.  Hilary  found  a 
seat  next  to  Olga  Werner,  and  when  she  looked  at  her 
opposite  neighbors  she  found  that  Herr  Hansen  and 
Nell  were  side  by  side.  She  felt  sure  from  Frau 
Werner's  manner  that  the  arrangement  did  not  com- 
mend itself  to  her,  but,  of  course,  a  hostess  who  does 
not  appoint  her  guests  to  seats  cannot  expect  them  all 
to  comply  with  her  unspoken  wishes. 

In  Hamburg  a  gala  supper  is  served  in  a  succession 
of  courses,  all  hot,  excepting  the  ice  that  arrives  toward 
the  end.  At  Frau  Werner's  house  every  dish  was 
exquisitely  cooked  and  chosen  to  satisfy  epicures. 
Herr  Hansen  said  he  had  not  tasted  such  venison  that 
winter,  and  yet  he  knew  that  the  same  provision 
merchant  served  his  hostess  and  him.  Herr  Werner 
said  that  a  bachelor  could  not  expect  his  food  to  be 


236  Gbe  <5ra00bopper0. 


cooked  as  if  there  was  a  lady  in  the  house  to  superin- 
tend details.  Hansen  must  marry  before  the  year  was 
out.  A  chorus  of  laughter  greeted  that  impossible 
recommendation,  and  the  good-humored  host  amended 
it  by  saying  that  Hansen  might  betroth  himself  in  the 
old  year  and  marry  in  the  new.  He  drank  to  Han- 
sen's  future  bride.  Herr  Hansen  merely  nodded  and 
helped  himself  to  venison  a  second  time.  He  seemed 
troubled  by  his  neighbor's  small  appetite,  and  when 
the  dish  first  came  round  Hilary  saw  him  look  for  the 
best  slice  and  put  it  on  Nell's  plate.  He  also  filled 
her  champagne  glass  the  moment  it  was  empty,  and 
entreated  her  not  to  let  turkey  with  truffles  go  by 
untried.  They  talked  English  to  each  other,  and  did 
not  join  much  in  such  general  conversation  as  went  on. 

"Your  sister  is  rather  pretty,"  said  Olga  Werner, 
as  if  this  most  obvious  fact  struck  her  to-night  for  the 
first  time.  Hilary  did  not  betray  that  she  thought 
the  compliment  clumsily  put.  She  made  allowances 
for  the  young  lady's  imperfect  English,  and  also  for  a 
different  standard  of  beauty  from  her  own.  In  Ham- 
burg, most  of  Herr  Hansen'  s  friends  considered  him  an 
exceedingly  fine  looking  man  ;  elderly,  of  course,  when 
compared  with  a  girl  in  her  teens,  but  well  preserved 
and  plenty  of  him. 

Supper  had  been  announced  at  eleven,  and  it  was 
now  nearly  midnight.  The  men  began  to  look  at  their 
watches.  An  immense  bowl  of  hot  punch,  aflame, 
like  an  English  Christmas  pudding,  was  set  before  the 
host  and  ladled  into  little  glasses.  The  young  people 
left  their  seats  and  crowded  in  front  of  the  four  win- 
dows, which  were  all  on  the  same  side  of  the  room, 
and  narrow.  In  the  expectant  hush  of  the  next  few 
minutes  no  one  spoke  above  a  whisper,  and  from  the 
Jungfernstieg  below  came  the  sounds  made  by  a  great 
expectant  crowd.  Someone  near  Hilary  threw  a 
window  open  and  she  looked  out.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
city  had  assembled  there  in  tens  of  thousands.  As  far 
as  she  could  see,  head  to  head,  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
men,  women,  and  children  stood  packed  in  a  dense 


flew  Beat's  Bve.  237 

mob  waiting  for  the  church  clocks  and  bells  to  bring 
in  the  new-born  year.  Even  among  that  vast  multi- 
tude all  noise  subsided  as  the  moment  they  waited  for 
came  close.  Hilary  watched  them  and  it  seemed  as  if, 
with  one  accord,  they  held  their  breath.  The  first 
stroke  from  the  old  Michaelisthurm  sounded  alone, 
with  the  second  it  had  company,  all  the  clocks  of  Ham- 
burg chimed  in,  and  from  thousands  of  her  children 
on  the  Jungfernstieg  a  shout  went  up  of  welcome  and 
good  wishes. 

In  Frau  Werner's  dining  room  thirty-five  people 
were  doing  just  what  ten  thousand  of  their  fellow- 
citizens  strove  to  do  below.  They  shook  hands  all 
round,  and  said  Prosit  Neujahr  to  everyone  in 
turn.  The  men  and  boys  leaned  out  of  the  windows 
now  and  again  and  exchanged  congratulations  with 
the  mob.  Hilary  felt  loath  to  turn  her  head  indoors, 
but  she,  too,  had  to  shake  hands  with  each  individual 
present,  and  both  offer  and  receive  congratulations 
twenty  or  thirty  times.  It  was  quite  bewildering. 
Half  an  hour  later  most  of  Frau  Werner's  guests  had 
followed  her  back  into  the  drawing  room,  and  when 
Hilary  arrived  there  she  looked  round  at  once  for  Nell. 
It  was  time  for  them  to  bid  good-by. 

"Where  can  my  sister  be?"  she  said  to  Olga 
Werner. 

Her  question  seemed  to  cause  a  general  silence, 
and  she  felt  at  once  that  something  had  gone  wrong. 
She  looked  round  for  Herr  Hansen  and  missed  him 
too.  She  looked  at  Frau  Werner's  face  and  saw  it 
stiff  with  displeasure.  Everyone  stared  at  her  and  no 
one  spoke.  Hilary  did  not  know  what  to  do.  She 
took  a  step  back  toward  the  dining  room,  but  she  had 
left  it  a  moment  since,  and  she  had  seen  that  Nell 
was  not  there. 

"Have  you  seen  my  sister?"  she  said  again  to 
Olga  Werner. 

The  girl  looked  distressed  and  still  kept  silence,  but 
Frau  Werner  said,  in  a  voice  that  bristled  with  annoy- 
ance ; 


(Braseboppers. 

"Your  sister  has  left  the  house  with  Herr  Han- 
sen,  fraulein.  We  have  no  idea  where  they  have 
gone." 

Hilary's  amazement  and  vexation  did  not  know  how 
to  find  expression.  She  turned  very  white,  because 
she  wondered  whether  her  sister's  escapade  would 
be  considered  disreputable  or  merely  silly  and  ill 
behaved.  Her  impulse  was  to  defend  Nell  as  well  as 
she  could  by  pretending  to  treat  it  as  unimportant. 

"My  sister  had  a  bad  headache,"  she  said. 
"I  dare  say  she  asked  Herr  Hansen  to  take  her 
home." 

"A  very  extraordinary  thing  for  a  young  lady  to 
do,"  said  a  sour-looking  old  spinster. 

"I  am  surprised  at  Herr  Hansen,"  said  Fran 
Martha,  the  least  amiable  of  Frau  Werner's  married 
daughters.  "He  ought  to  have  known  better." 

Hilary  silently  echoed  this  opinion.  What  had 
Herr  Hansen  been  about?  and  ought  she  to  go  home 
herself  now,  if  only  to  show  that  she  felt  certain  of 
finding  her  sister  there?  After  all,  any  explanation 
but  the  very  simple  one  must  be  impossible,  and  it 
was  ridiculous  to  behave  as  if  the  heavens  would  fall 
because  Nell  had  done  something  unusual.  If  she 
had  eloped  with  Herr  Hansen,  the  Werners  could 
hardly  look  more  scandalized.  Hilary  made  up  her 
mind  to  go  home.  Everyone  else  in  the  room  had 
fallen  a  little  away  from  her  by  this  time.  The 
hostess  was  surrounded  by  her  departing  guests.  The 
sour-visaged  woman  went  off  without  bidding  Hilary 
good-by.  The  two  married  daughters  shook  hands 
stiffly,  and  did  not  repeat  a  general  invitation  given 
earlier  in  the  evening;  but  they  were  hardly  two  steps 
from  her  when  they  stopped  stone-still,  with  exclama- 
tions of  surprise.  There,  in  the  open  doorway,  stood 
the  missing  couple,  both  looking  solemn  and  elated, 
as  if  they  had  news  to  tell.  Hilary  rushed  forward, 
and  then,  just  as  she  reached  them,  hung  back.  Herr 
Hansen  was  saying  something  in  a  loud,  deliberate 
voice,  and  his  words  took  her  breath  away. 


flew  gear's  five.  239 

"My  friends,"  he  said  rather  gravely,  "you  see  a 
Hrautpaar  before  you.  Congratulate  us ! " 

It  did  not  matter  much  during  the  next  ten  minutes 
what  Hilary  thought  or  felt.  She  had  plenty  of  time 
to  collect  herself  before  the  buzz  of  surprise,  inquiry, 
and  congratulation  subsided.  Had  they  gone  out  of 
doors  on  purpose  to  settle  it?  Why  did  Herr  Hansen 
not  confide  in  his  host?  There  was  a  little  breakfast 
room  at  hand  where  more  than  one  young  couple  had 
made  things  up.  How  far  was  Herr  Werner's  advice 
at  supper  responsible?  When  would  the  wedding  take 
place  and  where?  The  young  lady  would  have  a  great 
deal  to  learn  before  undertaking  to  keep  house  for  a 
German  husband.  Of  course  she  would  buy  her  out- 
fit in  Hamburg.  She  must  get  her  linen  from  that 
shop  at  the  corner.  Did  she  like  the  notion  of  settling 
in  Germany?  Where  did  they  think  of  going  for  their 
wedding  journey?  They  must  come  back  to  the 
dining  room  at  once  and  allow  everyone  to  drink  to 
them  in  champagne. 

"Well,  Hilary,"  said  Nell,  catching  her  sister's 
hand  in  her  own  icy  cold  one,  "have  you  nothing  to 
say  to  me?" 

"I  don't  know  what  to  say,"  stammered  Hilary. 
"I  am  so  surprised." 

For  she  saw  no  signs  of  happiness  in  Nell's  feverish 
manner,  and  when  she  looked  at  Herr  Hansen  he 
avoided  her  eyes.  Hilary  felt  puzzled  and  astounded, 
and  she  heard  an  echo  of  her  feelings  through  the 
chorus  of  polite  congratulation.  Frau  Werner  wished 
to  behave  kindly,  but  she  could  not  hide  her  sense  of 
shock  and  doubt.  It  is  one  thing  to  welcome  the 
stranger  within  your  gates,  and  quite  another  to  see 
her  capture  the  wealthiest  bachelor  you  know.  To 
the  mother  of  unmarried  daughters  such  an  event  must 
needs  be  trying.  Besides,  she  was  genuinely  fond 
of  Herr  Hansen,  and  she  could  not  think  his  choice  a 
prudent  one.  This  slip  of  a  girl,  this  alien,  would 
not  devote  herself  to  him  with  German  steadiness  and 
loyalty.  Besides,  she  was  incompetent.  What  did 


24°  Gbe  <3rassbopper0. 

she  know  of  cooking,  of  linen  cupboards,  of  sitting 
down  for  the  day  to  accomplish  invisible  darns. 
Tears  rose  in  Frau  Werner's  eyes  as  she  clinked  glasses 
with  the  bridegroom ;  but  she  wished  him  well  from 
her  heart,  and,  as  she  kissed  Nell,  she  softened  at  the 
sight  of  the  girl's  white  face,  and  whispered  a  generous 
message  of  congratulation  to  Mrs.  Frere. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

POLTERABEND. 

"  I  SPOKE  to  your  aunt  last  night,"  said  Mrs.  Frere, 
as  soon  as  the  girls  were  awake  next  morning.  "  She 
seems  willing  to  let  bygones  be  bygones,  which  is 
all  you  could  expect  of  a  more  amiable  woman.  And 
you  must  remember  that  she  did  not  make  herself  ; 
besides,  I  find  there  is  no  doubt  about  the  sunstroke. 
I  always  suspected  her  of  wearing  a  wig,  and  last 
night  I  caught  her  without  it  when  I  went  into  the 
sitting  room.  I  asked  her  how  it  was,  and  she  told 
me  her  hair  had  never  grown  again  since.  She  was 
quite  ready  to  make  friends — up  to  a  certain  extent. 
I  dare  say  she  finds  us  trying,  just  as  we  find  her. 
She  began  again  about  your  skirt,  Nell,  but  I  pointed 
out  that  a  frost  had  been  foretold,  and  that  in  dry 
weather  it  could  not  happen." 

'  "  To  manage  Aunt  Bertha  successfully,  you  want 
great  experience  in  managing  children,"  said  Hilary, 
who  was  wide-awake,  and  had  listened  rather  absently 
to  what  her  mother  said. 

Nell  sat  up  in  bed  and  rubbed  her  eyes.  She  had 
not  slept  through  the  first  part  of  the  short  night  left 
to  them,  but  toward  morning  she  had  fallen  into  a 
heavy,  dreamless  doze.  Her  first  thought  was  that 
she  had  important  news  to  tell. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  stay  here  much  longer,"  she 
said. 

"  Don't  say  that,  my  dear,"  began  her  mother 
anxiously. 

"  I  am  going  to  be  married,  mamma.  I  am  engaged 
to  Herr  Hansen." 

241 


242  ttbe  (Braseboppers. 

The  announcement  hardly  reached  Mrs.  Frere's 
understanding  at  first.  She  looked  at  Nell  and  saw 
that  she  was  quite  in  earnest.  She  looked  at  Hilary 
and  saw  that  she  did  not  smile. 

"  But  I  always  thought  he  came  after  Hilary,"  she 
stammered. 

"  He  is  going  to  marry  me,"  said  Nell. 

"  You  need  not  look  so  hard  at  me,  mamma,"  said 
Hilary.  "  I  am  not  distressed  ;  at  least  not  on  my 
own  account." 

"  But  it  is  the  most  extraordinary  thing,"  persisted 
Mrs.  Frere.  "  He  never  took  the  least  notice  of 
Nell — hardly  seemed  to  see  her  ;  are  you  sure  he  did 
not  mistake  you  for  Hilary,  dear  ?  Where  did  he 
propose  ?  Was  it  in  the  dark  ?  But  how  could  it  be 
at  Frau  Werner's  house.  What  did  he  say  ? " 

"  He  said  he  would  come  and  see  you  this  after- 
noon, and  ask  your  consent." 

"  I  never  was  so  much  surprised  in  my  life,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere. 

For  the  moment  her  pleasure  seemed  almost  lost  in 
surprise.  How  had  it  come  about  ?  Was  Nell  her- 
self not  taken  unawares  ?  What  did  the  Werners  say  ? 
Surely  they  were  amazed  and  confounded.  Anna 
always  talked  as  if  no  man  could  look  at  any  other 
girl  when  her  daughters  were  visible.  Herr  Hansen 
must  have  been  very  clever  to  get  his  chance  on  such 
an  occasion.  He  ought  really  to  have  seen  Nell's 
mother  before  he  spoke,  but  Mrs.  Frere  did  not  feel 
hurt.  Of  course  he  knew  that  any  mother  would 
welcome  him,  and  that,  in  England,  young  folks 
manage  such  matters  for  themselves.  The  girls 
would  find  out  now  how  delightful  it  was  to  be 
engaged  to  a  German.  He  would  send  his  bride 
flowers  every  day,  and  she  must  embroider  his  mono- 
gram on  various  articles  and  present  them  to  him. 
She  might  do  one  with  her  own  hair  on  a  cigar  case. 
It  was  difficult,  of  course  ;  perhaps  silk  would  be 
better  at  first.  They  might  go  into  Hamburg  that 
afternoon  and  buy  things.  Had  they  talked  of  their 


polterabenfc.  243 

marriage  yet  ?  Of  course  it  could  not  take  place 
until  Nell  was  out  of  mourning. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  Nell.  "  If  Herr  Hansen  likes,  it 
shall  take  place  at  once." 

"  But,  my  dear "  began  her  mother. 

"  I  want  to  get  away  from  this  house,"  said  the  girl. 
"  I  mean  to  get  away.  If  I  don't  marry  Herr  Hansen 
I  shall  do  something  else.  I  will  not  hang  about 
here  engaged  to  him  for  nearly  a  year.  I  could  not 
stand  it." 

"  I  thought  you  were  marrying  him  to  escape  from 
Aunt  Bertha,"  said  Hilary.  "  It  is  not  right.  You 
ought  not  to  do  it,  Nell.  It  is  not  good  enough — for 
him." 

"  He  knows  it,"  said  Nell. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  are  going  to  marry  Herr 
Hansen,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  "  but  I  can't  understand 
why  it  is  you  and  not  Hilary,  or  what  Hilary  means 
by  saying  you  are  not  good  enough  for  him.  He  is 
rich,  of  course,  but  then  you  are  young,  and  you  will 
get  your  looks  back  when  you  are  happy  and  well 
dressed  again.  I  am  sure  Herr  Hansen  will  think  he 
ought  to  wait  though,  however  impatient  he  may 
feel." 

"You  had  better  not  urge  it,  mamma,  if  you  want 
the  marriage  to  come  off,"  said  Nell. 

The  girl's  tone,  like  her  face,  was  almost  grim. 
She  did  not  look  any  happier  to-day  than  she  had 
done  since  her  father's  death  ;  and  when  she  dressed 
she  only  put  on  her  tidiest  black  gown  because  Mrs. 
Frere  begged  her  to  do  so. 

As  the  morning  wore  away,  the  magnitude  of 
Nell's  news  seemed  to  Mrs.  Frere  more  and  more 
real  and  delightful.  Their  position  would  be,  in  all 
respects,  altered  by  such  a  marriage,  she  maintained. 
Hilary  could  not  quite  see  this.  Her  mother  and  she 
would  still  be  on  the  brink  of  want.  They  could  not 
live  on  Herr  Hansen's  money.  Mrs.  Frere  rather 
unwillingly  admitted  this,  but  said  at  the  same  time 
that  one  fortunate  member  in  a  family  can  always  help 


244  Gbe  (Braesboppers. 

the  others,  and  that  Herr  Hansen,  being  a  German, 
would  have  a  deep  regard  for  the  claims  of  kin, 
especially  as  he  seemed  to  be  a  very  lonely  man  him- 
self. What  time  did  Nell  expect  him  to  arrive  ?  She 
must  see  that  the  best  sitting  room  was  warm  and 
tidy.  What  would  Aunt  Bertha  say  ?  " 

"What,  indeed  ?  "  said  Hilary,  with  emphasis. 

"  You  mean  she  wished  to  marry  Herr  Hansen  her- 
self, but  it  is  absurd.  She  must  be  ever  so  much 
older.  If  she  is  disagreeable,  I  shall  tell  her  that  she 
is  not  the  only  person  disappointed,  because  I  happen 
to  know  that  Anna  Werner  thought  of  him  for  her 
Olga.  She  was  only  hesitating  between  him  and 
Dick  Lorimer." 

"  I  am  afraid  Aunt  Bertha  may  be  disagreeable," 
said  Hilary. 

"  But  it  is  quite  ridiculous,  my  dear.  Herr  Hansen 
only  called  at  the  house  once  a  year  until  we  arrived, 
and,  of  course,  at  Christmas  he  came  after  you — after 
Nell,  I  mean." 

"  I  wish  to  tell  her  myself,"  said  Nell,  with  a  vin- 
dictive note  in  her  voice. 

About  three  o'clock,  when  Frau  Lange  and  her 
guests  were  just  sitting  down  to  dinner,  Auguste 
announced  Herr  Hansen,  and  said  that  she  had 
shown  him  into  the  "  best "  room.  The  mistress  of 
the  house  looked  fluttered  at  once. 

"  Why  has  he  come  now  ?  How  unlucky  I  am  !  I 
meant  to  dress  myself  after  the  second  breakfast, 
and  then  I  had  to  spend  all  the  morning  in  the 
kitchen  making  this  nudelsuppe.  He  must  really  wait 
while  I  pop  on  my  black  silk." 

"  Who  did  Herr  Hansen  ask  for,  Auguste  ? "  said 
Nell. 

"  For  you,  fraulein,"  said  the  girl,  looking  at  her 
mistress  with  a  scared  face. 

"  Go  and  tell  him  I  will  be  down  directly.  You 
need  not  put  yourself  out,  Aunt  Bertha.  Herr  Han- 
sen has  come  to  see  me." 

Frau  Lange  looked  angrily  at  her  niece. 


polterabenO.  *45 

"  Nonsense,"  she  said. 

"  He  is  very  fond  of  me." 

"  You  flatter  yourself." 

Nell  got  up  and  went  toward  the  door. 

"Comeback,  you  impertinent  girl  !"  shrieked  her 
aunt.  "I  do  not  ask  you  to  entertain  my  visitors. 
I  would  not  inflict  anyone  so  ill-mannered  on  them." 

"  I  suppose  that  when  my  Braiitigam  calls  on  me 
I  may  go  and  see  him,"  said  Nell,  in  a  stiff,  dignified 
way.  She  just  waited  for  an  instant  to  watch  Frau 
Lange's  amazement,  and  then  with  an  unkind  little 
laugh  she  left  the  room.  Hilary  felt  almost  sorry  for 
the  staring,  speechless  woman  at  the  head  of  the 
table.  Her  chagrin  was  so  visible,  her  surprise  so 
immense. 

"  Is  it  true  ? "  she  gasped.  "  Does  he  mean  to 
marry  that  little  minx  ? " 

"  Nell  has  accepted  him,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  much 
offended.  "  He  is  a  good  deal  older,  and  not  an 
Englishman,  but  I  shall  not  refuse  my  consent.  I 
hope  they  will  be  happy." 

"  Not  much  chance  of  that  for  him,"  said  Frau 
Lange.  "  What  a  fool  a  middle-aged  man  can  be  ! " 

She  did  not  say  more  just  then,  and  Hilary  thought 
they  had  escaped  easily.  If  their  aunt  had  turned 
them  neck  and  crop  out  of  doors  on  hearing  the  news, 
her  nieces  would  not  have  been  surprised. 

That  was  an  exciting  afternoon  for  Mrs.  Frere. 
Her  interview  with  Herr  Hansen  went  off  most  satis- 
factorily. He  showed  no  annoyance  at  hearing  that 
his  bride  was  penniless,  and,  indeed,  assured  Mrs. 
Frere  that  he  had  guessed  as  much.  Luckily,  he 
had  money  enough  and  to  spare.  The  suburban 
house  should  be  at  once  redecorated,  the  flat  in 
Hamburg  must  be  given  up,  and  a  larger  one  taken 
in  a  good  situation.  It  rejoiced  him  to  find  that 
Nell  did  not  desire  a  long  delay.  Mrs.  Frere  would 
easily  understand  that,  at  his  age,  marriage  presented 
more  attractions  than  courtship.  The  necessary 
legal  formalities  would  occupy  some  time,  but  he 


246  tTbe  <5ra08bopper0. 

thought  that  everything  might  be  in  order  six  weeks 
hence.  Meanwhile,  cards  announcing  their  engage- 
ment must  be  printed  and  sent  to  all  Herr  Hansen's 
friends.  He  and  Nell  would  then  have  to  pay  a 
formal  call  on  the  married  ones,  there  would  be 
some  dinners  given  in  their  honor — in  short,  Mrs. 
Frere  knew  as  well  as  he  did  what  duties  devolved  on 
a  betrothed  couple  in  Germany.  He  feared  Nell 
would  find  them  manifold  and  tedious.  Wherever 
it  was  possible  they  should  be  lightened  for  her.  On 
account  of  her  mourning  the  wedding  itself  would 
necessarily  be  a  very  quiet  one.  Herr  Hansen  spoke 
of  Mr.  Frere  with  great  respect  and  regret. 

Mrs.  Frere  came  upstairs  again  charmed  with  her 
future  son-in-law. 

"  He  has  brought  Nell  a  double  heart  of  roses  and 
maiden-hair.  Such  a  pretty  idea !  And  he  has  given 
her  two  rings — the  wedding  ring  and  a  splendid 
diamond  one." 

"  The  wedding  ring  already  !  "  exclaimed  Hilary. 

"  My  dear,  don't  you  know  in  Germany  the  wed- 
ding ring  is  always  used  first  as  the  engagement 
ring  ?  " 

"  Out  of  economy  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  It  is  the  custom ;  but  Herr 
Hansen  said  that  he  knew  it  was  not  so  in  Eng- 
land, so  he  got  this  other  one  for  Nell  as  well." 

"  Is  he  very  much  in  love,  do  you  think  ?  "  asked 
Hilary,  whose  bewilderment  grew  as  she  listened. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  "  For  a  German 
he  is  not  demonstrative,  though.  He  looks  rather 
solemn  and  anxious ;  but  I  am  sure  he  means  to  be 
very  good  to  Nell.  I  hope  they  will  get  on  com- 
fortably. He  asked  me  if  she  knew  anything  of 
housekeeping,  and  I  had  to  confess  that  she  did  not. 
I  told  him,  though,  that  it  is  very  easily  learned,  and 
that  German  women  make  too  much  fuss  about  theirs. 
Why,  here  is  Nell  already.  I  thought  Herr  Hansen 
would  have  stayed  rather  longer." 

"  I  told  him  I  always  went  for  a  walk  in  the  after- 


fcolterabenfc.  247 

noon,"  said  Nell,  sitting  down  at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
She  seemed  listless  and  tired,  more  fit  for  a  sleep 
than  a  walk.  Hilary  looked  straight  at  her  sister's 
left  hand,  and  saw  the  flash  of  diamonds  on  one 
finger,  and  the  plain  gold  band. 

"Where  are  your  roses?"  she  said. 

"  I  left  them  downstairs.  Do  you  want  them  ? 
They  will  not  live  in  water.  They  are  stupid  wired 
things." 

"You  must  have  a  respectable  outfit,"  broke  in 
Mrs.  Frere,  who,  ever  since  she  came  up,  had  been 
busy  with  pencil  and  paper.  "  It  is  all  the  more 
necessary  because  you  have  no  dowry.  For  the  first 
year  or  two  you  cannot  ask  your  husband  for  clothes, 
and  you  need  not  think  he  will  offer  you  any.  There 
never  was  a  man  yet  who  thought  his  wife  wanted 
money  for  dress,  even  when  his  own  tailor's  bill 
stares  him  in  the  face.  I  don't  say  he  won't  give 
you  money,  but  he  will  be  surprised  to  hear  that  you 
really  need  it.  I  can't  do  much  for  you,  of  course. 
Anna  Werner  told  me  only  the  other  day  that  each 
of  her  daughters  had  six  dozen  of  everything,  and 
she  means  Olga  to  have  the  same.  She  says  a  girl's 
character  shows  most  strikingly  in  the  choice  of 
under-linen.  One  wants  finery,  and  another  thinks 
of  what  will  last.  Next  time  I  see  her  I  must  ask 
her  advice  as  to  shops,  and  I  shall  say  that  as  you 
are  going  to  be  so  well  off,  we  care  more  for  style 
than  for  durability." 

"  How  much  did  Frau  Werner  spend  on  one  girl's 
trousseau  ?"  asked  Hilary. 

"Five  hundred  pounds,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  Mamma  !  We  have  not  one  hundred  pounds  left, 
all  told,  unless  you  are  allowed  to  use  the  trust 
money." 

"  But,  my  dear  child,  in  Germany  the  bride  has  to 
buy  all  the  house  linen.  You  must  conform  to  the 
customs  of  the  country." 

Hilary  held  her  peace  in  despair.  Next  day  she 
took  Nell  aside,  and  begged  her  to  be  content  with  a 


(Btassboppera. 

small,  simple  outfit  ;  but  the  girl  seemed  as  blind  as 
her  mother  to  the  need  of  economy.  She  said  she 
liked  things  nice.  Did  Hilary  want  her  to  buy  com- 
mon clothes  that  would  be  unwearable  when  they 
were  bought  ?  You  only  married  once,  as  a  rule,  and 
a  bride  was  expected  to  do  her  husband  credit.  Their 
mother  knew  better  than  Hilary  what  German  cus- 
toms imposed  in  this  respect.  Hilary's  panic  about 
money  grew  rather  ridiculous.  What  good  did  it  do 
to  worry  about  the  future  ?  You  never  knew  what 
shape  it  would  take.  They  might  all  be  dead  six 
months  hence.  Meanwhile,  Nell  agreed  with  Mrs. 
Frere,  nothing  they  bought  should  be  trimmed  with 
imitation  lace. 

When  Aunt  Bertha  was  told  that  the  marriage 
would  come  off  as  soon  as  possible,  she  said  that,  in 
that  case,  she  could  not  have  any  festivities  in  cele- 
bration of  it  at  her  house. 

"  I  am  not  surprised  at  your  heartlessness,"  she  said, 
"  but  I  will  not  countenance  it.  What  would  you 
have  said  if  I  had  asked  you  to  my  wedding  six  months 
after  poor  Hans'  death  ?  I  might  have  done,  I  can 
assure  you.  A  widow  with  a  little  money  is  simply 
besieged.  That  is  why  I  see  so  few  people.  When  I 
found  that  every  man  who  entered  my  doors  wanted 
to  hang  his  hat  in  my  hall,  I  said  to  myself,  I  must 
put  a  stop  to  it.  I  don't  know  what  you  are  laughing 
at,  Nell,  unless  it  is  that  you  wish,  as  usual,  to  behave 
with  impertinence.  Poor  Herr  Hansen  !  How  I  pity 
him  !  I  lay  awake  all  night  wondering  what  I  could 
say  to  congratulate  him.  I  suppose  I  must  dwell  on 
your  good  luck.  I  can  do  that  with  a  clear  conscience. 
But  I  shall  explain  to  him  that  my  respect  for  your 

blessed  father's  memory  prevents  me " 

"  You  need  not  trouble,  Aunt  Bertha,"  interrupted 
Nell.  "  I  told  Herr  Hansen  at  once  that  I  wished  to 
be  married  in  Hamburg,  and  dine  at  a  hotel  after- 
ward. Nothing  would  persuade  me  to  spend  my 
wedding  day  in  this  house.  Suppose  we  came  back 
from  church  with  muddy  boots  ?  I  don't  know  why 


polterabenfc.  249 

we  stay  here  another  six  weeks.     Mamma  seems  to 
wish  it,  but " 

"  Your  mamma,  being  born  a  German,  has  some 
regard  for  decorum,"  said  Aunt  Bertha.  "  She  would 
not  insult  me  by  leaving  my  house  the  moment  for- 
tune smiles  on  you  again." 

"  I  thought  you  wished  us  to  leave,"  said  Nell. 
"  You  said  almost  as  much  the  other  night." 

"  You  probably  misunderstood  me.  Your  knowl- 
edge of  German  is  very  imperfect.  I  cannot  say 
your  presence  adds  to  my  happiness,  but  I  should  not 
wish  my  old  friend,  Herr  Hansen,  to  fetch  his  bride 
from  furnished  lodgings.  It  would  reflect  on  me. 
All  Hamburg  will  know  that  he  is  marrying  my  niece." 

Nell  doubted  whether  all  Hamburg  would  be  much 
impressed  by  the  fact.  That  it  was  impressed  by  the 
news  of  her  betrothal  she  soon  discovered.  Perhaps 
the  exact  degree  of  surprise  shown  was  not  flattering. 
People  talked  as  if  the  announcement  took  their  breath 
away,  and  congratulated  the  Freres  rather  too  effu- 
sively on  their  luck.  It  was  known,  of  course,  that 
Nell  had  no  money,  and  her  good  looks  were  not 
above  question.  She  was  not  plump,  she  was  not 
rosy,  and,  like  the  lilies  of  the  field,  she  could  neither 
toil  nor  spin.  On  the  whole,  it  was  widely  whispered 
that  Herr  Hansen  had  done  a  foolish  thing.  No  one 
but  Hilary  thought  that  Nell  was,  perhaps,  more  fool- 
ish still.  Everyone  behaved  with  new  and  astonish- 
ing politeness  when  the  engagement  became  known. 
Nell,  in  spite  of  her  mourning,  lived  in  a  world  of 
calls,  dinners,  nosegays,  and  poetical  speeches.  Many 
of  Herr  Hansen's  friends  gave  banquets  in  honor  of 
the  future  happy  pair — banquets  at  which  long  speeches 
were  made  in  praise  of  Herr  Hansen. 

Hilary  grew  a  little  tired  of  it  all.  She  began  to 
wish  that  someone  would  stand  up  and  speak  in 
praise  of  them,  or,  at  any  rate,  of  their  father. 
Among  their  own  friends  this  engagement  would  have 
been  celebrated  to  a  different  tune.  Perhaps  Herr 
Hansen  deserved  all  that  his  fellow-citizens  said  of 


250  ttbe  (Braesboppers. 

him.  Perhaps  he  was  a  compendium  of  all  the  virtues, 
ornamental  and  otherwise  ;  but  his  trumpeters  brayed 
over  loudly  and  over  long.  The  six  weeks  dragged. 

Aunt  Bertha's  temjjer  grew  no  sweeter  as  time  went 
on.  Whatever  arrangements  were  made  for  Nell's 
marriage  seemed  to  give  offense.  She  refused  to 
celebrate  it  in  her  house,  and  refused  to  be  present  at 
it  anywhere  else.  She  objected  to  take  charge  of  the 
wedding  presents,  and  grew  furious  when  Frau  Werner 
arranged  to  exhibit  them.  When  Nell's  wedding- 
clothes  arrived  her  aunt  said  that  if  Herr  Hansen  saw 
them  he  would  break  off  the  marriage,  they  were  so 
useless  and  so  extravagant.  Mrs.  Theodore  sent  the 
bride  a  traveling-bag  fitted  with  silver-mounted  brushes 
and  bottles.  Frau  Lange  said  that  such  things  were 
not  respectable.  The  hotel  servants  would  think  Nell 
was  no  better  then  she  should  be  if  she  used  them. 
What  did  the  wife  of  an  honest  German  merchant  want 
with  silver  brushes  and  powder  pots  ?  Nell  had  better 
put  a  plain  wooden  brush  in  her  trunk,  and  set  these 
things  aside  till  she  ran  away  with  an  actor. 

The  letter  that  accompanied  Mrs.  Theodore's  bag 
contained  a  few  lines  of  congratulation.  It  also 
mentioned  that  Sophia's  marriage  to  Arthur  Preston 
had  taken  place  about  a  week  ago.  The  happy  pair 
were  now  in  Naples,  where,  perhaps,  Nell  and  her 
bridegroom  would  come  across  them. 

"  We  ought  to  send  Sophia  a  present,"  said  Mrs. 
Frere.  "It  is  not  too  late.  You  have  several  dupli- 
cates, Nell.  You  might  spare  her  a  gong  or  a  cucum- 
ber cutter." 

Nell's  face  was  dreamy.  She  did  not  attend  to 
what  her  mother  said,  but  went  on  sorting  some  of 
the  clothes  with  which  the  room  was  littered.  Her 
mother  and  she  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  last 
six  weeks  in  shops  and  closeted  with  milliners.  As 
box  after  box  arrived  full  of  elegant  and  costly  gar- 
ments, Hilary  sometimes  wondered  whether  her 
mother  and  sister  were  fit  to  be  at  large.  Their  reck- 
lessness seemed  to  her  insane.  Nell  was  on  the  eve  of 


polterabeno.  251 

marrying  a  man  with  money,  but  the  bills  for  her 
wedding  outfit  would  come  to  her  mother,  and  to 
meet  them  it  would  be  necessary  to  sell  nearly  half 
the  trust  money.  Mrs.  Frere  considered  herself  very 
wise  because,  before  giving  any  orders  for  clothes, 
she  had  ascertained  that  part  of  the  trust  money 
might  be  applied  to  such  a  purpose.  She  said  that 
the  consequent  loss  of  income  would  not  matter  to 
Hilary  and  her  because,  in  any  case,  their  present 
income  did  not  suffice  for  their  needs.  Half  the 
money  would  belong  to  Nell  and  might  as  well  be 
spent  on  her.  The  fortunate  child  would  never  again 
need  it  as  badly  as  she  did  now.  Mr.  Theodore 
admitted  that  Mrs.  Frere  had  a  right  to  the  sum  of 
five  hundred  pounds  on  the  occasion  of  a  daughter's 
marriage,  but  he  objected  to  pay  it  in  until  the  mar- 
riage was  an  accomplished  fact.  So  Mrs.  Frere  sent 
for  every  penny  at  her  present  disposal.  She  said 
that  she  positively  must  have  ready  money.  Hilary 
asked  her  what  they  were  to  do  when  it  had  melted 
away.  They  had  no  more  furniture  to  sell.  She 
gave  great  annoyance  to  her  mother  and  sister  by 
putting  this  kind  of  unanswerable  question.  They 
called  her  the  family  raven.  This  afternoon,  as  she 
helped  Nell  pack  her  trunks,  she  felt  inclined  to 
croak.  Wherever  her  eyes  fell  they  saw  signs  of  an 
unnecessary  outlay.  Why  should  her  sister  have 
ordered  that  fur-lined  traveling-cloak  when  her  bride- 
groom had  given  her  one  handsomer  still  ?  When 
would  Nell  wear  a  yellow  silk  tea-gown,  smothered 
with  lace — in  Hamburg?  or  half  a  dozen  dinner 
dresses  cut  low  and  made  with  long  trains  ?  Herr 
Hansen  had  told  her  that  he  had  all  the  house  linen 
collected  by  several  generations  of  ambitious  house- 
wives. He  had  shown  Mrs.  Frere  two  rooms  at  the 
top  of  his  house  literally  stacked  with  sheets  and 
table-cloths,  some  of  it  homespun  and  above  a  hun- 
dred years  old.  Yet  Nell,  encouraged  by  her  mother, 
had  bought  more,  chiefly,  as  it  seemed  to  Hilary, 
that  it  might  be  on  view  at  the  shop  when  their 


252  Gbe  <5rassboppers. 

acquaintances  called  there  to  see  the  trousseau.  She 
thought  sometimes  that  grief  had  hardened  her  sister's 
heart  and  softened  her  mother's  head,  the  one  was  so 
selfish,  and  the  other  so  silly.  Yet  she  felt  sorry  for 
Nell.  This  afternoon,  for  instance,  she  looked  at  her 
finery  as  if  she  hated  it. 

"  Take  care,  my  dear,"  said  her  mother,  when  she 
saw  the  splendid  traveling-cloak — Herr  Hansen's 
last  gift  to  his  bride,  thrown  in  a  heap  on  the  floor. 
Nell  listlessly  picked  it  up  and  let  it  trail  over  her 
arm. 

"  Did  you  marry  for  love,  mamma  ? "  she  said 
suddenly. 

"  What  funny  questions  you  ask,  child  !  Of  course 
I  did.  Your  poor  father  was  a  very  good-looking 
young  man.  Hilary  is  the  image  of  him.  We  fell 
in  love  over  croquet.  We  used  to  play  with  old  Mrs. 
Theodore's  children,  you  know.  Mrs.  Theodore 
never  saw  it.  When  we  told  her  we  were  engaged 
she  went  into  hysterics  at  once." 

«  Why  ?  " 

"  There  are  women  like  that.  I  often  say  it  is  a 
mercy  the  law  allows  only  one  husband  apiece,  other- 
wise some  of  us  would  annex  twenty.  However,  she 
came  round  in  time,  and  I  was  married  from  her 
house.  It  is  curious  that  I  had  no  home  of  my  own 
at  the  time,  and  now  you  have  none.  Things  do 
turn  out  so  contrary.  If  you  were  to  marry  Herr 
Hansen,  why  couldn't  you  do  it  eight  months  ago  in 
your  own  home,  with  your  father  to  give  you  away  ? " 

"  You  were  very  poor  when  you  were  a  girl,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Hilary,  "  otherwise  you  would  not  have 
come  to  England  by  yourself  ?  " 

"  I  have  often  told  you  that  we  never  knew  at  home 
whether  we  were  poor  or  rich,"  said  Mrs.  Frere. 
"  My  father  was  bankrupt  one  day  and  making 
fortunes  the  next.  He  had  a  genius  for  business. 
Unhappily  he  died  at  the  wrong  moment." 

"  Should  you  have  married  my  father  if  you  had 
not  loved  hirn  ? "  asked  Nell, 


polterabenfc.  253 

"  You  remind  me  of  old  Mrs.  Theodore.  She  used 
to  put  that  kind  of  useless  question.  When  Hilary 
was  born  she  asked  me  which  I  would  rather  have 
drowned,  my  husband  or  my  child.  Her  conversa- 
tion was  never  cheerful." 

"  Have  you  ever  known  anyone  who  married  for 
money  ? "  persisted  Nell. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  placidly.  She  was 
sitting  up  to-day  in  her  easy-chair,  and  she  had  the 
bodice  of  Nell's  wedding  gown  in  her  hands.  It  had 
arrived  from  London  that  morning,  with  no  myrtle 
on  it.  In  Germany  a  bride  is  bound  to  wear  myrtle, 
so  Mrs.  Frere  had  undertaken  to  fasten  a  few  sprigs 
of  it  among  the  orange  flowers.  She  was  too  deeply 
engaged  with  this  agreeable  occupation  to  pay  much 
attention  to  her  child  ;  but  she  chatted  on  : 

"  What  do  you  suppose  Mrs.  Theodore  married 
for  ?  She  wanted  money,  and  she  got  it.  Most 
people  would  rather  have  money  than  anything  ;  and 
a  woman  cannot  make  a  fortune  unless  she  is  a 
prima  donna." 

"  Mrs.  Theodore  is  a  very  cheerful,  prosperous 
person,"  said  Nell  musingly. 

"  Why  shouldn't  she  be  ?     She  has  all  she  wants." 

"  Yes,"  broke  in  Hilary,  with  a  touch  of  indignation, 
"  she  has  all  she  wants ;  but  some  of  us  want  more." 

"  Then  you  must  be  very  greedy,"  said  her  mother, 
patting  the  satin  sleeve.  "  I  should  be  content  with  a 
tenth  part  of  what  the  Theodores  spend." 

"  I  am  not  thinking  only  of  money,"  protested 
Hilary.  "  There  are  other  things  in  the  world  worth 
having." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Nell  ;  "  but  if  you  can't  get  them 
you  may  as  well  have  money.  I  would  rather  have 
married  Arthur  than  Herr  Hansen.  I  was  very  fond 
of  Arthur.  I  hate  the  sound  of  his  name  now.  And 
I  would  rather  drown  myself  than  starve  in  an  attic, 
or  live  another  month  with  this  old  harridan.  I  would 
have  waited  for  Arthur  ;  but  now  that  he  has  jilted 
me,  I'm  not  going  to  spend  the  rest  of  my  days  in 


254  Cbe 

sackcloth  weeping  for  him.  I'd  rather  weep  in 
diamonds." 

"  You  show  great  good  sense,"  said  Hilary,  wonder- 
ing in  her  own  mind  whether  her  sister's  cynical  mood 
would  last  over  her  wedding  day. 

Mrs.  Frere  looked  at  her  children  with  puzzled 
eyes.  This  marriage  gave  her  unmixed  pleasure. 
Why  did  they  speak  of  it  in  such  a  tone,  and  drag  in 
Arthur's  name  ?  She  thought  Nell  had  forgotten 
him. 

"  This  is  ready  to  try  on  now,"  she  said,  holding  up 
the  bodice.  "  I  long  to  see  you  in  it.  We  must  look 
at  the  veil  too." 

The  sight  of  her  mother's  contentment  helped  in 
some  measure  to  console  Hilary  for  the  many  unsatis- 
factory circumstances  connected  with  her  sister's 
marriage.  On  the  whole,  she  felt  inclined  to  hope 
well  of  it,  at  any  rate  for  Nell.  She  thought  her  sister's 
happiness  really  depended  a  good  deal  on  ease  and 
plenty.  She  flourished  when  she  could  have  what  she 
wanted,  and  pined  on  a  starvation  diet.  Hardship 
withered  her;  ill  winds  did  her  harm.  Some  creatures, 
like  some  plants,  need  sunshine.  They  deteriorate  in 
the  shade. 

It  was  Herr  Hansen  who  puzzled  Hilary.  Why  did 
he  not  look  more  ashamed  of  himself  ?  He  had  pro- 
posed to  the  younger  sister  a  week  after  being  rejected 
by  the  elder  one,  and  yet  he  trod  the  earth  as  if  an 
applauding  conscience  supported  him.  She  had  tried 
to  sound  her  sister  on  the  subject.  She  even  asked 
how  the  proposal  had  come  about ;  what  had  led  up  to 
it ;  whether  it  had  given  Nell  a  complete  surprise. 
But  Hilary  soon  saw  that  such  questions  seemed  to 
hurt  her  sister  like  a  flick  on  a  raw  wound.  She  shied 
from  them  with  some  word  or  look  of  irritation  that 
answered  nothing. 

The  betrothed  couple  did  not  see  much  of  each 
other  except  in  public.  Aunt  Bertha  had  threatened 
to  tell  Herr  Hansen  she  did  not  care  to  have  constant 
billing  and  cooing  going  on  in  her  house,  but  he  did. 


Polterabend.  *55 

not  give  her  the  chance.  He  hardly  entered  it.  For 
three  weeks  out  of  the  six  that  the  engagement  lasted 
he  had  to  travel  in  Austria  on  business,  and  when  he 
came  back  the  days  were  not  half  long  enough  for  the 
whirl  of  work  and  gayety  into  which  his  approaching 
marriage  forced  him  for  the  time.  Nell  and  he  met 
every  day  in  furniture  shops,  and  at  dinners  given  in 
their  honor  by  his  friends.  Whatever  further  acquaint- 
ance they  roade  with  each  other  they  made  in  the 
presence  of  spectators. 

In  Germany  Polterabend,  the  evening  before  the 
wedding  day,  is  usually  celebrated  with  great  rejoic- 
ing. A  polite  generation  has  given  up  smashing 
crockery  against  the  doors  of  the  bride,  a  noisy  old 
custom  from  which  the  evening  gets  its  name.  But 
some  elaborate  form  of  entertainment  is  still  in  vogue, 
and  this  is  given  either  by  the  bride's  parents  or  by 
their  intimate  friends.  It  had  been  arranged  long  ago 
that  Herr  Hansen  and  Nell  should  spend  their  Polter- 
abend with  the  Werners.  Frau  Werner  had  preserved  a 
strict  silence  regarding  the  details  of  her  programme, 
but  it  was  known  that  she  had  issued  a  large  number 
of  invitations,  and  that  her  children  were,  in  some 
way,  expected  to  surpass  themselves. 

Even  Frau  Lange  received  a  card  of  invitation,  and, 
to  the  dismay  of  her  relatives,  determined  to  go.  They 
wondered  how  she  would  behave  and  what  she  would 
wear,  whether  the  presence  of  strangers  would  abash 
her,  or  whether  she  would  consider  the  occasion  a 
good  one  for  a  display  of  her  peculiar  powers.  Her 
costume  was  sure  to  be  outlandish.  The  girls  thought 
their  aunt  must  have  come  away  from  Peru  with  trunks 
full  of  clothes  made  twenty  years  ago  for  someone 
else,  the  stuffs  were  so  creased,  the  fashions  so  anti- 
quated, the  colors  so  outrageous,  and  the  sizes  so 
various.  They  wondered  fearfully  what  she  would  fish 
out  and  wear  on  Polterabend.  It  never  seemed  to 
occur  to  her  to  have  a  new  garment  made,  or  even  an 
ancient  one  altered. 

When  the  evening  came  Hilary  and  Nell  finished. 


25  6  £be  <5rassbopperg. 


dressing  before  their  mother,  and  went  into  the  dining 
room  to  wait  for  her.  Hilary  looked  at  her  young 
sister,  and  tried  to  realize  that  she  was  legally  Frau 
Hansen  already.  The  civil  marriage  had  taken  place 
in  Hamburg  that  morning  in  the  presence  of  Mrs. 
Frere,  Herr  Werner,  and  one  of  Herr  Hansen's  friends. 
Hilary  did  not  go.  The  afternoon  hours  had  not  been 
agreeable.  The  bride  came  back  half-frozen,  white, 
and  silent.  Even  her  mother  wondered  vaguely 
whether  anything  was  wrong  ;  but  Nell  did  not  seem 
inclined  to  bemoan  herself.  She  said  she  felt  sleepy, 
and  wished  to  lie  down.  It  was  manifestly  Mrs.  Frere's 
duty  to  do  likewise  ;  so  Hilary  drew  the  blinds  and  sat 
as  still  as  a  mouse  in  the  darkened  room.  The  dark- 
ness and  the  silence  did  not  help  to  make  her  thoughts 
lively.  Once  she  felt  sure  she  heard  her  sister  sob, 
and  she  spoke  to  her  ;  but  Nell  did  not  reply.  Alto- 
gether it  had  not  been  a  cheerful  afternoon. 

When  the  evening  came,  however,  the  bride  took 
great  pains  with  her  toilet.  She  wore  a  vaporous- 
looking  gown,  the  color  of  full-blown  lavender  blos- 
soms, and  when  she  was  ready  she  looked  very 
elegant  and  fair,  but  her  mother  did  not  feel  quite 
satisfied. 

"  I  don't  like  a  young  bride  in  lavender,"  she 
objected.  "  You  ought  to  have  worn  white,  as  you 
are  in  mourning  and  cannot  wear  pink  or  blue." 

But  at  this  time  of  day  Nell  could  not  make  any 
alteration,  and  when,  to  please  her  mother,  she  had 
pinned  on  some  white  flowers  and  chosen  a  white 
feather  fan,  she  declared  herself  ready,  and  joined 
Hilary  in  the  dining  room.  Presently  their  aunt 
arrived  in  a  gown  they  had  never  seen  before.  In- 
deed, from  its  mode  and  its  creases,  they  could  hardly 
tell  when  it  had  last  beheld  the  light  of  day.  It  was 
made  of  bright  crimson  plush,  and  plentifully  "  re- 
lieved "  with  frills  of  white  cotton  lace.  About  the 
clothes  Frau  Lange  from  time  to  time  unearthed, 
there  was  always  a  cheap  and  moldy  flavor  that  sug- 
gested as  rigid  an  economy  in  tailoring  as  she  exer- 


polterabenfc.  257 

cised  in  food.  She  loved  finery,  but  not  its  price.  In 
her  wig  she  had  fastened  a  full  blown  white  camellia, 
and  in  her  bosom  she  cherished  no  less  than  three  of 
these  engaging  flowers.  She  carried  in  her  hand  a 
pair  of  short  white  gloves  trimmed  with  swansdown, 
and  a  small  imitation-ivory  fan.  Round  her  neck  and 
arms  she  wore  massive  chains  of  gold. 

"  O  Bertha  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Frere,  who  entered 
the  room  at  the  same  moment  by  another  door,  "  why 
didn't  you  put  on  your  black  silk  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  in  mourning,"  said  Frau  Lange,  highly 
displeased.  "  I  suppose  you  think  I  am  too  well 
dressed.  This  gown  was  made  in  London,  so  it 
ought  to  satisfy  you." 

"  Made  in  London  !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Frere.  "  But 
how  did  you  get  it  ?  " 

"Through  the  Exchange  and  Mart,  five  years  ago, 
when  I  was  staying  with  you.  I  only  gave  a  musical 
box  for  it — one  that  Hans  bought,  and  which  was 
always  getting  out  of  order — so  I  had  the  best  of  that 
bargain.  Of  course  the  dress  doesn't  fit  as  if  a  tailor 
had  made  it  for  me,  but  the  lace  hides  a  good  deal. 
What  a  dull  color  Nell  has  on  to-night.  Most  unsuit- 
able !  And  Hilary  is  in  white,  as  if  she  was  the  bride. 
Absurd  !  And  neither  of  them  has  a  necklace  on,  or 
even  a  bracelet.  They  might  have  taken  a  little  more 
pains  with  themselves.  I  have  a  handsome  set  of  jet 
ornaments  that  I  don't  mind  lending  Hilary,  if  she 
will  take  care  of  them." 

The  girls  threw  their  cloaks  on  in  a  hurry  and  fled 
downstairs.  They  did  not  look  forward  to  entering 
Frau  Werner's  room  behind  Aunt  Bertha. 

Even  in  Hamburg,  where  the  "  young  person  "  is 
taught  to  know  her  place,  the  bride  of  to-morrow  was 
the  guest  of  the  evening.  Everyone  looked  toward 
Nell  with  interest  and  welcome  when  she  arrived. 
The  grotesque  figure  of  her  aunt  created  a  slight 
sensation  at  first,  chiefly  because  Frau  Lange's  society 
manner  was  as  conspicuous  as  her  costume.  She 
wreathed  her  face  in  smiles,  made  elaborate  courtesies, 


<5rassbopper0. 

and  excused  herself  loudly  to  Frau  Werner  for  the 
slow  development  of  their  acquaintance.  Now  that 
the  ice  was  broken,  she  hoped  shortly  to  invite  her 
hostess  to  a  meal.  Frau  Werner,  who  had  her  own 
carriage,  would  not  find  the  drive  a  long  one.  Of 
course,  her  rooms  were  not  as  spacious  as  these,  but 
one  could  breathe  in  them.  How  many  people  were 
here  to-night  ?  A  hundred  ?  And  yet  she  did  not 
see  a  single  familiar  face.  Truly  the  world  is  a  large 
one  !  Frau  Lange  looked  round  the  room  benignly, 
with  the  air  of  a  duchess  who  finds  herself  in  an 
assembly  where  she  is  unknown.  Most  people  were 
seated  already,  and  all  the  seats  were  arranged  to 
face  a  small  impromptu  stage  put  up  in  the  room 
leading  out  of  this  one.  Right  in  front  were  two 
chairs  garlanded  with  flowers. 

"  Look  !  "  whispered  Nell  to  her  sister,  "  those  are 
for  Herr  Hansen  and  me.  What  fools  we  shall  feel  !  " 

She  was  not  mistaken.  Directly  she  had  said  good- 
evening  to  her  hostess,  Herr  Hansen  came  forward 
and  led  his  bride  to  the  place  of  honor.  Olga  Werner 
presented  her  with  a  bouquet,  Mrs.  Frere  and  Hilary 
were  invited  to  occupy  seats  in  the  front  row,  and 
then  the  performance  began.  What  became  of  Aunt 
Bertha  her  nieces  did  not  at  once  perceive.  From 
where  they  sat  she  was  not  visible.  The  entertain- 
ment lasted  above  an  hour,  and  consisted  of  several 
recitations  and  a  one-act  operetta.  The  recitations 
were  home-made,  and  full  of  allusions  to  the  bride  and 
bridegroom.  These  gave  great  pleasure  and  won 
loud  applause.  When  the  curtain  fell,  Herr  Hansen 
made  a  solemn  little  speech,  in  which  he  thanked  his 
friends  for  their  sympathy.  After  that,  people  got 
up  and  began  to  form  into  groups,  and  to  talk  and 
laugh.  Quite  a  crowd  surrounded  the  next  day's 
bride  and  bridegroom.  The  host  and  hostess  stood 
near  them,  so  did  Mrs.  Frere  and  Hilary,  and  several 
of  Frau  Werner's  most  honored  guests.  Suddenly 
Hilary  saw  her  aunt  making  her  way  toward  them 
from  a  remote  corner  of  the  room.  Frau  Lange 


polterabenfc.  259 

looked  red  and  angry.  She  planted  herself  at  Herr 
Werner's  elbow,  and  listened  with  a  derisive  smile  to 
some  complimentary  remarks  he  made  to  Mrs.  Frere 
on  Nell's  good  looks  and  good  spirits. 

"  My  poor  Martha  spent  her  Polterabend  in  tears," 
he  concluded. 

"  In  my  opinion,  a  girl  who  is  going  to  leave  her 
home  next  day  ought  to  look  as  if  she  regretted  it," 
said  Frau  Lange  aggressively. 

Herr  Werner  gazed  at  her  through  his  spectacles, 
and  wondered  who  she  was.  He  had  been  told  and 
had  forgotten  again. 

"  But  the  child  has  no  home,"  he  said  ;  "  and  she 
goes  to  such  a  good  one.  My  dear  friend 
Hansen " 

"  I  must  protest  against  your  insinuation,"  inter- 
rupted Frau  Lange,  bristling  with  indignation. 
"  Since  her  father's  death  my  niece's  home  has  been 
with  me." 

"  Of  course,  of  course  !  "  said  Frau  Werner  hastily, 
"  my  husband  never  remembers  anything." 

"  I  do  not  need  to  be  told  that  she  is  going  to  a 
good  home.  I  have  known  Herr  Hansen  ever  since 
I  came  back  from  Peru  five  years  ago.  I  am  sure  I 
wish  him  every  happiness." 

Frau  Lange  sighed.  Herr  Hansen  put  his  heels 
together,  and,  after  bowing  his  thanks,  moved  away, 
with  Nell  beside  him. 

"  I  am  one  of  those  who  speak  their  minds,  if  they 
die  for  it,"  burst  out  Frau  Lange,  as  she  looked  round 
for  approval.  "  I  wish  he  was  going  to  marry  a  German 
maiden — one  of  your  beautiful  daughters,  for  instance, 
Frau  Werner.  I  grudge  him  to  a  foreigner,  good 
honest  fellow  that  he  is." 

With  the  matter  of  Frau  Lange's  observations 
many  persons  present  were  in  secret  sympathy,  but  no 
one  felt  inclined  to  countenance  the  manner  in  which 
they  were  made.  Some  turned  away ;  some  looked 
amazed  ;  Frau  Werner  felt  affronted  at  the  implica- 
tion that  her  children  had  been  passed  by.  Hilary 


260 

wished  the  earth  would  gape  and  swallow  her  aunt. 
Mrs.  Frere  felt  driven  to  expostulate. 

"  I  married  a  foreigner,"  she  said.  "  It  turned  out 
very,  very  well,  I  am  sure." 

Frau  Lange  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  smiled  in 
a  compassionate  manner  that  made  those  behind  the 
scenes  long  to  shake  her. 

"  Are  you  coming  to  the  wedding  to-morrow  ?  " 
asked  Frau  Werner,  brusquely  changing  the  subject. 

Frau  Lange  hesitated.  She  had  all  along  refused  to 
have  a  place  ordered  for  her  at  the  wedding  dinner, 
or  even  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony  ;  but  Frau 
Werner's  question  sounded  like  a  challenge  of  her 
importance. 

"  Who  should  come  if  I  did  not  ?  "  she  inquired 
pompously.  "  Who  else  has  as  great  a  right  as  I  ?" 

"  But,  my  dear  Bertha,"  began  Mrs.  Frere,  and  then 
stopped  to  find  out  the  meaning  of  a  nudge  from 
Hilary.  At  the  same  moment  the  announcement  of 
supper  gave  rise  to  a  hasty  dispersal  of  the  crowd  at 
this  end  of  the  room  ;  and  just  as  Hilary  had  managed 
to  persuade  her  mother  to  say  nothing  more  to  Frau 
Lange  on  the  subject  of  the  wedding,  the  host  came 
up  to  Mrs.  Frere  and  offered  her  his  arm.  He  led 
her  to  the  place  of  honor  on  the  bridegroom's  right 
hand. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    WEDDING    DAY. 

IN  Hamburg  marriages  are  celebrated  in  the  after- 
noon. When  the  bride  and  bridegroom  are  at  all 
fashionably  disposed,  the  bride  drives  to  church  in  a 
sort  of  state  coach  decked  with  flowers.  The  young 
men  who  have  admired  her  send  flowers  to  the  church, 
and  all  the  wedding  guests  wear  full  evening  dress. 
After  the  ceremony  there  is  a  gala  dinner,  followed  by 
toasts  and  speeches,  but  no  crowd  assembles  in  the 
hall  or  on  the  doorsteps  to  throw  rice  and  slippers 
after  the  bride  and  bridegroom.  They  make  off 
quietly  by  themselves. 

Herr  Hansen  and  Nell  were  not  going  to  have  their 
carriage  trimmed  with  flowers.  Their  wedding  was 
to  be  a  very  quiet  one.  The  wedding  dinner,  to 
which  only  a  few  intimate  friends  had  been  invited, 
was  to  be  served  at  a  good  hotel. 

The  plan  of  fixing  a  ceremony  for  a  late  hour  in  the 
day  has  its  disadvantages.  The  hours  are  apt  to  drag 
heavily  beforehand.  Nell's  trunks  had  all  been  sent 
away  the  day  before,  one  to  the  railway  station,  the 
others  to  her  future  home.  None  of  her  possessions 
but  her  white  satin  gown  and  her  veil  remained  in  her 
aunt's  house.  When  she  woke  on  her  wedding  day 
there  was  nothing  for  her  to  do.  All  night  it  had 
been  snowing  small  flakes  out  of  a  leaden  sky,  and 
there  seemed  no  hope  of  a  change  in  the  weather. 
The  clouds  still  looked  leaden,  and,  before  Auguste 
lighted  the  stove,  the  thermometer  in  the  bedroom 
stood  at  freezing-point. 

The  three  ladies  spent  a  melancholy  morning. 
Hilary  felt  sure  that  her  mother  was  downright  ill  and 

261 


262  abe  <5ra00boppers. 


unfit  to  go  out  of  doors,  but  she  could  not  persuade 
her  to  give  up  seeing  Nell  married.  Mrs.  Frere 
owned  that  she  had  not  slept,  that  she  breathed  with 
difficulty,  and  that  though  her  hands  were  hot  she  felt 
very  chilly  ;  but  she  refused  to  send  for  the  doctor  or 
to  alter  her  plans  for  the  day.  She  talked  a  great 
deal  about  her  husband,  and  of  how  forlorn  they  would 
feel  without  him  at  the  marriage  feast.  The  girls, 
who  missed  their  father  every  hour,  felt  harrowed  by 
these  reminiscences  and  lamentations.  They  would 
rather  have  thought  of  him  and  kept  silent. 

After  the  second  breakfast  Hilary  had  to  go  to  one 
of  the  local  shops,  and  while  she  was  out  she  deter- 
mined  to  make  another  effort  to  keep  her  mother  at 
home  that  day.  It  was  so  cruelly  cold,  the  wind  took 
her  breath  away  ;  the  fine  hard  snow  beat  against  her 
face  ;  her  breath  came  with  pain  and  effort  as  she 
fought  her  way  back  through  the  storm.  Even  in  a 
close  carriage  it  would  be  madness  for  her  mother  to 
leave  the  house. 

But  when  Hilary  went  into  the  bedroom  her 
thoughts  were  diverted,  for  the  time,  by  the  sight  of 
Mrs.  Frere  and  Nell  both  dissolved  in  tears.  Nell 
had  thrown  herself  on  her  bed,  and  was  sobbing 
loudly,  while  her  mother  sat  close  to  the  stove. 

"  Bless  me  !  "  said  Hilary,  more  vexed  than  sorry, 
"  what's  the  matter  now  ?  What  is  it,  Nell  ?  What 
has  happened  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  moaned  Nell,  "  only  I'm  so  miserable, 
and  so  is  mother." 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,"  said 
Hilary.  "  It  is  very  bad  for  mother  to  be  miserable." 

"It  is  very  easy  for  you  to  talk,"  objected  her 
sister.  "  You're  not  going  to  marry  a  fat  man  you 
don't  care  for." 

"  Nell  !  "  thundered  Hilary,  "  then  why  are  you, 
you  wicked  girl  !  " 

«•  I  don't  know,"  sobbed  the  bride.  "  Go  and  tell 
him  I  won't." 

"  How  can  I  when  the  civil  marriage  took  place 


tTbe  We&Dfna  Dag.  263 

yesterday  ?  I  feel  like  Aunt  Bertha.  I'm  sorry  for 
him." 

"  It  is  all  through  Aunt  Bertha.  If  it  had  not  been 
for  her  I  should  never  have  asked  him  to  marry  me." 

"What?" 

"  I  asked  him  to  marry  me  when  we  went  out  to  see 
the  crowd  on  New  Year's  Eve.  Didn't  you  guess? 
It's  no  use  staring  at  me  like  that,  mamma.  Just 
remember  that  night,  and  the  way  Aunt  Bertha  carried 
on.  I  had  to  do  it  or  drown  myself.  I  thought  of 
it  when  I  looked  over  the  railings  at  the  water.  It 
was  raining.  I  spoke  then  and  there,  the  moment  the 
idea  entered  my  head." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  asked  Hilary. 

"He  seemed  rather  pleased  after  the  first  shock. 
He  could  hardly  believe  his  own  ears,  he  said,  and 
then  he  thanked  me  for  putting  such  trust  in  him.  I 
trust  him  now." 

"  I  should  think  so,"  said  Hilary. 

"  I  shall  be  ashamed  to  look  him  in  the  face,"  said 
Mrs.  Frere,  "  after  the  careful  way  in  which  I  have 
brought  you  up,  and  so  proud  as  I  have  been  of  you. 
I  always  did  say  other  girls  might  flirt,  but  mine  were 
above  it  ;  but  what  is  flirting  compared  with  asking  a 
man  to  marry  you  ?  I  can't  think  how  you  got  the 
words  out  of  your  mouth." 

"  I  told  him  that  English  girls  often  did  it  nowa- 
days." 

"  Then  you  told  him  what  is  not  true,"  said  her 
sister. 

"  Would  you  have  been  any  better  pleased  if  I  had 
thrown  myself  into  the  Alster  ?  "  asked  Nell  fiercely. 
"  I  believe  you  would  go  on  forever  bearing  anything." 
She  had  left  off  crying. 

Hilary  did  not  carry  on  the  discussion.  She 
remembered  now  what  she  had  meant  to  say  when 
she  first  came  in. 

"  It  is  a  terrible  day,  mamma,"  she  began.  "  The 
cold  throttles  you,  and  the  sky  is  almost  black. 
There  will  be  more  snow  before  night" 


264  Cbc  (Braggboppers. 


"  You  will  be  back  before  night  without  me,"  said 
Nell  gloomily. 

Mrs.  Frere  could  not  answer  at  once  because  she 
was  coughing  ;  but  as  soon  as  she  could  speak  she 
said  she  would  wrap  up  warm  and  shut  the  carriage 
windows.  She  must  go. 

By  four  o'clock  they  were  all  ready.  At  last  Mrs. 
Frere  saw  one  of  her  children  dressed  as  a  bride. 
She  looked  at  Nell  with  ecstasy.  How  many  times 
had  she  pictured  her  girls  standing  like  this,  in  a  white 
shimmering  robe,  crowned  by  orange-flowers,  wrapped 
round  by  the  veil.  Nell  might  have  stepped  in  at  the 
window  out  of  the  snow,  she  looked  so  radiantly 
white.  Herr  Hansen's  diamonds  flashed  at  her 
throat.  The  heavy  scent  of  lilies  and  gardenias  clung 
about  her  ;  she  carried  them  in  her  bouquet. 

"  You  must  say  good-by  to  Aunt  Bertha,"  said  Mrs. 
Frere. 

Nell's  mouth  and  eyes  set  harder  at  the  sound  of 
her  aunt's  name  ;  but  before  she  made  any  reply 
Frau  Lange  herself  opened  the  door  and  appeared  on 
the  threshold  in  a  gala  costume  still  spicier  than  the 
one  she  had  worn  yesterday. 

"  The  carriage  is  waiting,"  she  said,  looking  rather 
uneasily  at  her  resplendent  niece. 

Nell  swept  forward  in  front  of  her  mother  and 
sister. 

"  We  are  quite  ready.  Good-by,  Aunt  Bertha.  I 
suppose  we  may  never  see  each  other  again.  A  long 
life  to  you,  and  a  merry  one  !  " 

"  My  dear  Nell,"  murmured  Mrs.  Frere,  "you  for- 
get you  will  be  near  neighbors  in  summer." 

But  Nell  had  passed  on,  and  arrived  at  the  top  of 
the  stairs,  where  she  stopped  to  pick  up  her  train. 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind,"  said  Aunt  Bertha,  her 
voice  trembling  with  anger.  "  I  am  coming  to  the 
wedding." 

"  That  is  impossible  now,"  said  Nell.  "  You  are 
not  expected." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  should  not  be  welcome  ?  " 


Cbe  TJCle&Mng  Bap.  265 

"  I  mean  exactly  what  I  say." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  expostulated  Mrs.  Frere,  "  if 
Aunt  Bertha  wishes  to  come " 

"  Aunt  Bertha  should  have  spoken  a  month  ago,  or 
a  week  ago,  or  even  yesterday,"  said  Nell  inflexibly. 

"  This  is  too  much,"  screamed  Frau  Lange,  "  you 
wicked,  ungrateful  girl  !  What  will  the  world  say  if 
I  am  not  at  your  wedding,  I  should  like  to  know; 
I  meant  to  punish  you  for  all  your  insolence  by  stay- 
ing away,  and  this  morning,  at  the  last  moment, 
I  relented  and  dressed  myself.  And  you  say  I  am  not 
expected.  Who  are  you  ?  It  is  my  old  friend  Herr 
Hansen  I  wish  to  honor ;  but  I  shall  not  go.  I  have 
had  enough  of  you  all.  I  wash  my  hands  of  you.  I 
shall  shut  my  doors,  and  not  one  of  you  shall  ever 
enter  them  again." 

Frau  Lange's  voice  had  risen  higher  and  higher  as 
she  worked  herself  into  a  fury.  She  gesticulated 
wildly,  shook  her  hands  at  her  nieces,  and  at  last 
began  tearing  the  ornaments  from  her  neck  and  hair. 

"  She  will  have  a  fit,"  whispered  Mrs.  Frere ;  and 
very  unwisely  she  went  up  to  the  raging  woman  and 
tried  to  take  her  hand.  Her  touch  seemed  to  madden 
Frau  Lange.  At  any  rate  she  jerked  out  her  elbow  so 
violently  that  the  blow  would  have  sent  her  sister-in- 
law  reeling  back,  if  Hilary  had  not  intervened  and 
received  the  first  shock  of  it  herself.  For  a  moment 
the  girl  felt  stunned. 

"  Haven't  you  had  enough  ?  "  cried  Nell,  from  half- 
way down  the  stairs.  "  We  are  twenty  minutes  late 
already,  through  waiting  to  receive  Aunt  Bertha's 
blessing." 

Hilary  felt  as  if  they  had  borne  enough.  Her 
aunt's  repulse  had  been  equivalent  to  a  blow,  and  as 
soon  as  the  girl  recovered  from  it  she  began  to  con- 
sider how  she  could  show  her  resentment.  Her  eyes 
flashed  with  anger. 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself !  "  she  began, 
but  Frau  Lange  brandished  both  arms  and  screamed 
her  down. 


266  abe  (Sraesboppers. 

"  Go  out  of  my  house,  all  of  you  !  One  is  as  bad 
and  shameless  as  the  other.  I  never  wish  to  see  one  of 
you  again." 

"  Come  ! "  cried  Nell  imperiously,  from  the  bottom 
of  the  stairs  ;  and,  pursued  by  Frau  Lange's  shrill 
abuse,  the  mother  and  daughter  joined  the  bride  and 
got  into  the  carriage. 

The  church  was  well  warmed  and  well  lighted. 
Friends  were  gathered  there,  and  the  bridegroom 
waited  when  the  bride  with  her  mother  and  sister 
arrived.  In  twenty  minutes  the  simple  ceremony  was 
over,  and  Nell  drove  off  with  her  husband  to  the 
hotel  where  dinner  had  been  ordered. 

You  may  guess  that,  after  her  sister's  confession, 
Hilary  watched  the  bridegroom  with  increased  curi- 
osity. She  thought  his  manner  to  his  young  bride 
admirably  kind.  After  dinner  the  speeches  in  his 
honor  were  long  and  various,  but  when  he  got  up  he 
spoke  of  Nell's  father,  and  of  the  forlornness  his  wife 
and  children  must  feel  on  such  a  day  as  this  without 
him.  The  bride's  face  softened  as  she  listened  to  her 
husband,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  As  Frau 
Werner  watched  her  she  thought,  with  a  throb  of  sur- 
prise, that  she  might  learn  to  love  the  girl.  When 
everyone  rose  from  table,  their  tongues  loosened  a 
little  by  wine  and  food,  Herr  Hansen  approached 
Hilary,  and  under  cover  of  other  voices  said,  in  a  low 
tone,  "  I  hope  that  your  sister  will  be  happy." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Hilary.  "  I  think  she  ought  to 
be." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Herr  Hansen,  looking  pleased. 
He  reflected  a  little,  and  then  continued  :  "When  a 
man  arrives  at  middle  age  it  is  easier  for  him  to  trans- 
fer his  affections.  I  was  touched  by  your  sister's 
appeal.  I  too  was  unhappy  that  night.  I  said  to  her, 
'  My  child,  out  of  two  wounded  hearts  we  will  make 
one  sound  one.  It  has  often  been  done.' '! 

He  paused  as  if  he  expected  Hilary  to  speak,  but 
she  felt  too  much  flurried  and  taken  aback  to  do  so 
before  he  went  on  ; 


Cbe  "Cde&Ding  Dag.  267 

"Therefore,  when  we  return  to  Hamburg,  I  hope 
your  mother  and  you  will  pay  us  a  long  visit.  I  hope 
you  will  stay  with  us  until  you  marry  and  return  to 
England." 

Hilary  thanked  him  gratefully,  and  did  not  say  that 
she  thought  the  objections  to  such  a  household  were 
various  and  insurmountable.  She  talked  to  Herr 
Hansen  a  minute  or  two  longer,  chiefly  about  her 
mother's  health,  and  then  went  out  of  the  room  with 
Nell  to  help  her  put  on  her  traveling  gown.  The 
sisters  were  accompanied  by  Frau  Werner  and  Olga, 
and,  of  course,  by  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  see  everyone  again,"  said  Nell, 
sitting  down  wearily  and  letting  Hilary  take  off  her 
wreath  and  veil. 

Frau  Werner  looked  puzzled. 

"  You  will  see  no  one  again  but  your  husband," 
she  said  solemnly. 

"  How  droll  !  In  England  we  all  crowd  round 
them,  and  throw  rice  and  slippers,  and  shout,  and 
talk,  and  kiss  the  bride.  I  don't  like  running 
downstairs  by  myself." 

"  It  is  the  custom,"  said  Frau  Werner.  "  Besides, 
you  will  not  be  by  yourself.  You  will  find  Herr 
Hansen  waiting  for  you." 

Nell  first  unclasped  the  diamond  rivttre,  and  then 
began  to  take  off  her  satin  gown.  Hilary  had  already 
removed  the  long  court  train,  at  which  Olga  looked 
with  envy,  and  her  mother  with  mild  disapproval. 

"  It  is  Olga's  turn  next,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  who 
seemed  hardly  able  to  sit  up  in  her  chair. 

"No,"  returned  Frau  Werner.  "I  think  Hilary 
comes  first.  She  is  older  than  Olga." 

"  Hilary  refuses  everyone,"  said  Mrs.  Frere.  She 
spoke  in  a  drowsy  voice,  and  looked  heavy- eyed. 

"  Her  heart  is  probably  in  her  own  country,"  said 
Frau  Werner. 

"  I  used  to  think  so,"  began  Mrs.  Frere,  in  a  matter- 
of-fact  voice,  "but  if  Olga  marries " 

"  Mamma,"  interrupted  Hilary,  "  I  am  afraid  you 


268  abe  <S5ras0bopper0. 

are  nearly  asleep.  Look  at  Nell's  hat.  Do  you  think 
she  should  wear  a  veil  ? " 

"  Oh  !  my  darling,"  said  Mrs.  Frere,  stumbling  to 
her  feet  and  taking  Nell  into  her  arms,  "  are  you  really 
going?  I  shall  never  see  you  again.  God  bless  you  !" 

Frau  Werner  beckoned  to  her  daughter  to  follow 
her  out  of  the  room.  They  joined  the  wedding 
guests,  and  ten  minutes  later  Mrs.  Frere  reappeared 
with  Hilary.  The  bride  and  bridegroom  had  gone. 

By  this  time  everyone  had  noticed  that  Mrs.  Frere 
was  very  ill.  One  of  the  wedding  guests  happened 
to  be  a  well-known  Hamburg  doctor,  and  he  took 
Hilary  aside,  when  she  returned  to  the  room,  and  urged 
her  to  take  her  mother  home  at  once.  He  went  down 
himself  with  Mrs.  Frere,  and  helped  to  pack  her  as 
warmly  as  possible  into  a  cab.  He  told  Hilary  that 
she  must  summon  their  own  doctor  immediately,  and 
he  explained  what  remedies  she  might  use  until 
medical  help  arrived.  Then  he  spoke  to  the  driver, 
who  said  that,  though  the  roads  were  deep  in  snow,  he 
could  get  the  ladies  home.  He  promised  the  doctor 
to  carry  them  safely.  He  lived  out  in  that  direction 
himself.  So  they  started,  Mrs.  Frere  drowsy,  weak, 
and  in  pain,  Hilary  wideawake  and  anxious.  At  the 
last  moment  Frau  Werner  had  run  down  with  her 
own  fur  cloak,  which  she  threw  over  their  knees  as 
an  extra  wrap  ;  but  nothing  seemed  of  any  use 
against  this  degree  of  cold. 

The  snow  still  showered  down  on  the  city,  blown 
aslant  by  a  gusty  wind,  and  drifting  to  westward  in 
immense  heaps.  Everywhere  it  lay  so  thickly  that 
traffic  was  seriously  impeded.  Two  hours  ago  the 
tramcars  had  ceased  to  run.  The  long,  dull  road 
leading  out  of  Hamburg  was  almost  deserted,  though 
the  clocks  had  only  just  struck  ten.  A  few  foot- 
passengers  plunged  through  the  snow,  their  steps 
unheard,  and  their  voices  reaching  farther  than  usual 
between  the  gusts  of  wind.  Hilary  began  to  under- 
stand that  her  mother  was  very  ill,  much  worse  than 
she  had  ever  been  before.  Mrs.  Frere's  hands  felt 


5)ag.  269 

like  hot  coals,  and  yet  she  shivered  incessantly.  She 
had  probably  taken  a  violent  chill  the  evening  before, 
as  they  drove  back  from  the  Werners',  and  her  bed- 
room all  through  the  night  had  been  bitterly  cold. 

Halfway  home  the  cab  stopped  at  the  doctor's 
house,  and  Hilary  had  to  plunge  across  the  pavement, 
through  two  feet  of  untouched  snow,  only  to  hear  that 
he  was  not  at  home.  She  left  an  urgent  message, 
wondered  by  what  means  he  got  here  and  there  in  such 
weather,  and  returned  to  the  cab,  telling  the  driver  to 
stop  again  at  a  chemist's  shop  close  by.  She  had  not 
a  penny  piece  in  her  own  pocket,  so  she  tried  to  rouse 
her  mother,  and  explain  that  she  needed  some  money. 

"  Money,  money  !  "  muttered  Mrs.  Frere,  in  a  lethar- 
gic way.  "  I  have  none.  I  gave  the  last  sixpence  to 
the  hotel  servants." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  "  asked  Hilary.  "  Let  me 
look  in  your  purse." 

"I  haven't  a  shilling  either  here  or  at  home,  my 
dear.  Nell  wanted  so  many  things  at  the  last  moment. 
Don't  you  remember  ?  What  do  you  want  money  for 
now  ?  Let  us  get  home  and  go  to  bed." 

Hilary  did  not  like  the  notion  of  asking  a  strange 
chemist  to  supply  her  with  goods  she  could  not  pay 
for,  so  she  determined  to  wait  and  stop  at  a  shop 
farther  on  where  they  were  known.  She  put  her  head 
out  of  the  window  to  tell  the  driver  this,  and  was 
somewhat  disturbed  by  the  surly  manner  in  which  he 
answered  her. 

She  wished  more  anxiously  than  ever  that  they  were 
safe  at  home.  She  would  have  to  rouse  her  aunt  and 
borrow  money  from  her  to  pay  the  cabman  ;  but  she 
could  not  imagine  that  even  Frau  Lange  would  raise 
trifling  difficulties  when  she  saw  her  sister-in-law's 
condition.  It  is  so  hard  for  a  young  tender-hearted 
creature  to  believe  that  suffering  can  fail  to  make  its 
appeal.  How  slowly  they  were  getting  on  now  !  The 
horse  plodded  at  a  snail's  pace  through  the  deep  snow. 
Suddenly,  when  they  were  still  half  a  mile  from  home, 
the  driver  pulled  up  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  clam- 


270  Gbe  <Sra0sbopper0. 

bered  down  from  the  box,  and  told  the  ladies  he  would 
not  go  a  step  farther  unless  they  paid  him  double  fare. 
He  had  been  an  ass  and  a  sheep's  head  to  come  as  far 
as  this  without  a  clear  understanding  that  it  would  be 
made  worth  his  while.  Hilary  gave  him  the  promise 
he  required,  and  urged  him  to  hurry  on  ;  but  it  took 
them  nearly  twenty  minutes  longer  to  reach  their  own 
gate,  and  by  that  time  Mrs.  Frere  was  terribly  ex- 
hausted and  in  great  pain.  Her  breath,  she  said,  hurt 
her  like  knives. 

With  some  difficulty  Hilary  helped  her  mother  out 
of  the  cab  and  across  the  front  garden.  She  had  told 
the  cabman  she  would  return  in  a  minute  to  fetch 
their  wraps  and  to  bring  him  his  fare. 

"  There  is  not  a  light  to  be  seen,"  she  said  to  Mrs. 
Frere  as  they  approached  the  house.  "  I  believe  they 
have  gone  to  bed,"  she  cried,  after  listening  for  some 
sound  of  life  in  answer  to  her  bell.  She  rang  a  second 
time,  but  no  one  came.  With  the  third  peal  she  broke 
the  rickety  bell.  The  handle  came  off  in  her  hand, 
and  there  was  an  end  of  that  means  of  communication. 
She  hammered  on  the  door  until  anyone  in  the  house 
must  have  waked  and  heard  her  ;  she  threw  gravel  at 
her  aunt's  window,  and  heard  a  pane  of  glass  smash. 
She  tried  to  get  round  to  the  back  and  make  Auguste 
answer  her,  but  the  high  gate  leading  there  had  been 
locked,  and  she  could  neither  break  nor  climb  it.  The 
only  window  in  reach  was  protected  by  bars  and 
shutters.  No  one  could  have  forced  an  entry  without 
skill  and  strong  tools. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  she  cried,  coming  back  to 
her  mother. 

"  She  said  she  would  never  let  us  enter  the  house 
again,"  said  Mrs.  Frere  hoarsely. 

"  She  didn't  mean  it,"  said  Hilary,  awe-stricken  ; 
and  as  she  spoke  she  heard  her  aunt  make  the  threat, 
saw  her  frenzied  face,  saw  Nell's  derisive  smile. 

"  She  has  locked  us  out,"  she  said  slowly.  "  Where 
had  we  better  go  ?  " 

She  did  not  wait  for  any  reply  from  her  mother, 


'  WITH    THE   DETERMIXATIOX    OK    DESPAIR    BEGAN    TO   RAIN    BLOWS   OX   THE   FRONT 
DOOR   AGAIN."—  Page  3J1. 


Cbe  THfle&Oine  Dag.  271 

but  hurried  back  to  the  cabman,  explained  that  she 
could  make  no  one  hear,  and  asked  him  to  drive  them 
to  the  village  inn.  He  refused  to  budge  without  his 
fare.  Hilary  did  not  know  what  to  do.  She  reminded 
him  of  his  promise  to  the  doctor,  and  pointed  out  that 
her  mother  was  very  ill,  even  a  short  delay  might 
lessen  her  chance  of  life.  The  man  replied  that  he 
wanted  his  fare.  He  scowled  as  he  spoke,  and  looked 
suspiciously  at  the  dark,  silent  house.  Hilary  asked 
him  to  come  and  help  her  rouse  the  inmates,  but  he 
refused  to  leave  his  horse.  He  added  that  she  had 
made  noise  enough  to  rouse  the  dead.  Perhaps  the 
house  was  empty.  How  long  did  the  lady  mean  to 
keep  him  waiting  in  the  snow  for  his  fare  ? 

At  last  Hilary  told  him  the  truth.  She  had  no 
money  with  her,  and  could  get  none  until  they  were 
let  inside  the  house.  She  thought  he  would  have 
knocked  her  down  when  he  heard  this.  He  cursed 
her  in  the  foulest  language  at  his  command,  and  to 
escape  from  him  she  ran  back  across  the  garden,  and 
with  the  determination  of  despair  began  to  rain  blows 
on  the  front  door  again.  Every  now  and  then  she 
ceased  and  listened,  and  during  one  of  these  intervals 
she  thought  she  heard  the  sound  of  the  cabman  whip- 
ping up  his  horse.  She  remembered  then  that  some 
of  their  wraps  were  still  inside  the  cab,  and,  much  as 
she  dreaded  facing  the  cabman  again,  she  felt  bound 
to  fetch  them  ;  but  when  she  opened  the  gate  and 
looked  out  no  cab  was  there.  The  man  had  driven 
off  and  confiscated  the  wraps  in  lieu  of  his  fare.  How 
silly  she  had  been  to  leave  them  with  him  !  Yet,  if 
she  had  not  done  so,  he  would  not  have  gone.  She 
could  only  feel  relieved  at  his  departure.  But  what 
were  they  to  do  next  ?  The  wind  whistled  in  her  ears, 
and  the  snow  filled  her  eyes  as  she  turned  back  for 
the  last  time  to  bring  her  mother  away.  They  could 
not  spend  the  night  on  the  doorstep.  Though  every 
yard  cost  Mrs.  Frere  a  grievous  effort,  she  must  some- 
how reach  such  shelter  as  could  be  given  in  the 
miserable  little  village  inn. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

FORTUNE'S  FREAKES  UNKINDE. 

MRS.  FRERE  had  sunk  in  a  heap  on  the  doorstep 
while  Hilary  tried  to  get  into  the  house.  There  she 
began  to  dream.  When  her  daughter  helped  her  to 
her  feet  again  she  hardly  knew  where  she  was.  In 
her  speech  she  did  not  wander  yet,  but  she  was  unfit 
for  any  effort,  dazed,  and  very  wretched.  Hilary, 
ignorant  as  she  was  of  everything  to  do  with  illness, 
saw  that  it  would  be  useless  to  consult  her  mother. 
She  must  act  for  both  as  best  she  could.  She  decided 
that  they  had  no  alternative  but  to  seek  the  shelter  of 
the  little  village  inn.  She  had  not  forgotten  Herr 
Hansen's  house,  but  to  get  round  to  the  front  door 
would  take  some  time,  and  she  knew  that  the  only 
person  there  just  now  was  a  deaf  old  caretaker,  who 
at  this  hour  would  probably  be  in  bed  and  difficult  to 
rouse.  The  delays  had  been  serious  enough  already 
to  kill  her  mother  ;  to  encounter  more  would  be  the 
last  degree  of  folly. 

"  Come,  mother,"  she  coaxed  tenderly,  "  come,  we 
must  go  on." 

Mrs.  Frere  said  she  could  not  walk  on,  could  not 
plunge  a  step  farther  through  the  heavy  snow.  How 
could  Hilary  be  so  cruel  as  to  propose  it  !  Her  limbs 
were  like  lead  ;  her  head  ached  ;  she  shivered,  and  yet 
felt  hot. 

"  I  know,  I  know,  but  come,"  said  Hilary.  She  put 
her  arm  round  her  mother  and  tried  to  keep  her  from 
falling,  to  help  her  on.  The  nearest  way  to  the  village 
lay  through  a  suburban  lane,  with  detached  houses  on 
either  side  surrounded  by  gardens.  Here  the  snow 
lay  in  a  sheet,  and  nothing  heavier  than  a  bird  had 

272 


ffortune'0  freahes  IHnfctn&e.  273 

touched  it  yet.  Every  branch  was  loaded,  every  shrub 
weighed  down.  The  wind  had  somewhat  subsided, 
but  it  still  blew  the  snow  aslant  their  faces,  and  found 
its  way  beneath  the  loose  folds  of  Hilary's  evening 
cloak.  Her  hands,  her  bare  arms,  and  her  thinly  shod 
feet  were  soon  numb  with  cold.  Her  eyes  ached  and 
wept  with  it.  It  hurt  her  to  breathe.  But  her  own 
discomfort  only  helped  her  to  understand,  with  increas- 
ing distress  and  compassion,  what  her  mother  must 
feel.  She  soon  thought  that  every  yard  would  be  the 
last  they  could  accomplish,  and  that  they  would  have 
to  sink  into  the  snow  and  die  there.  She  did  not 
dare  to  leave  her  mother  and  seek  help.  She  felt 
uncertain  where  to  find  it.  No  cab  plied  for  hire  at 
this  distance  from  the  city,  and  most  respectable  people 
were  in  bed.  When  at  last  the  scarce  and  meager 
village  lights  were  visible,  Hilary  felt  as  a  storm- 
tossed  crew  may  in  sight  of  a  haven.  There  were 
shelter,  warmth,  and  human  aid.  She  whispered 
encouraging  words  to  her  mother  ;  she  tightened  her 
arm  about  her  ;  she  dragged  her  forward  ;  she  won- 
dered whether  the  stress  of  the  moment  could  give 
her  the  strength  to  carry  the  sick  woman  a  few  yards 
in  her  arms  ;  but  that  was  impossible,  she  found,  and 
the  effort  she  made  toward  it  shook  and  troubled  Mrs. 
Frere.  It  roused  her  too  for  the  moment,  and,  with 
a  final  desperate  spurt,  she  began  to  walk  quickly, 
only  to  arrive,  however,  in  a  state  of  great  exhaustion 
at  the  door  of  the  inn,  which  stood  a  little  apart  from 
the  rest  of  the  village. 

There  were  no  lights  in  any  window,  and  Hilary 
could  find  no  bell.  She  hammered  at  the  door  with 
her  fists,  and,  after  a  time,  a  light  appeared  at  a  first- 
floor  window  and  the  landlord  leaned  out  to  see  who 
was  there.  By  this  time  Mrs.  Frere  and  Hilary  were 
white  with  snow,  their  hair  powdered  by  it,  their  clothes 
covered.  They  had  no  escort,  and  no  luggage.  In 
that  wild  weather  they  came  on  foot.  Perhaps  the 
man  thought  they  were  adventuresses,  or  even  tramps ; 
or  he  may  have  recognized  that  they  were  ladies,  and 


^ 74  tTbe  (Brassboppers. 

unsuitable  guests  in  his  rough  drinking  shed,  for  the 
wretched  house  was  little  more.  At  any  rate,  he 
shouted  that  he  had  no  room  to  give  them,  shut  down 
the  window,  and  disappeared.  Hilary  was  at  her 
wits'  end.  If  an  inn  refused  them  shelter,  surely  other 
people  would  ;  and  yet  the  next  thing  to  do  was  to 
try  and  rouse  some  of  the  trades-people  whose  cus- 
tomers they  had  been.  There  was  the  provision  shop 
where  they  had  occasionally  bought  dainties  for  Mrs. 
Frere.  Perhaps  she  could  make  them  hear,  perhaps 
they  would  tell  her  where  to  go  when  they  saw  her 
mother  literally  dying  of  exposure.  Another  delay, 
another  painful  explanation  before  they  were  adrift 
again.  It  was  more  than  five  minutes'  walk  from  the 
inn  to  the  provision  shop,  and  when  they  had  traversed 
twenty  yards  Hilary  began  to  think  that  they  would 
never  get  there  together. 

"  Will  you  wait  here  for  me  ? "  she  said  to  her 
mother.  "  I  will  run  on  and  ask  about  a  room." 

But  Mrs.  Frere  clung  tightly  to  her  daughter's  arm. 
"  Do  not  leave  me,"  she  moaned.  "  I  am  very  ill. 
I  do  not  want  to  be  alone." 

"  Will  you  try  and  come  with  me,  then  ? "  said 
Hilary. 

Instead  of  answering,  Mrs.  Frere's  grip  suddenly 
slackened,  and,  with  a  terrifying  groan,  she  slipped 
from  her  daughter's  side  to  the  ground.  Hilary's 
heart  stood  still.  She  tried  in  great  haste  to  raise 
her  mother,  but  the  slim  girl  had  no  strength  to  lift 
so  heavy  and  helpless  a  woman. 

"  Let  me  be,  dear,"  whispered  Mrs.  Frere,  in  a 
sleepy  voice.  "  I  shall  be  all  right,  if  you  let  me  be." 

"  You  must  not  lie  here  in  the  snow,"  said  Hilary. 
"You  must  let  me  help  you  up." 

But  neither  her  entreaties  nor  her  attempts  to  rouse 
Mrs.  Frere  were  of  any  avail.  She  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  She  took  off  her  own  cloak,  rolled  it 
into  a  pillow,  and  put  it  under  her  mother's  head  and 
neck,  which  were,  of  course,  drenched  in  snow.  She 
was  afraid  that  Mrs.  Frere  was  dying  then  and  there, 


Jortune'6  jfreafces  TUnfcinDe.  275 

so  she  dared  not  leave  her.  She  tried  shouting  for 
help,  but  no  one  came.  Probably  her  voice  did  not 
carry  far  enough  in  that  high  wind.  When  she  had 
watched  for  a  few  minutes,  kneeling  in  the  snow,  she 
began  to  think  the  danger  of  death  was  perhaps  not 
immediate,  and  that  she  had  better  risk  the  brief 
separation  and  run  into  the  village  for  help  ;  but  the 
moment  she  moved,  her  mother  half  roused  and  im- 
plored the  girl  not  to  leave  her  there  alone.  Hilary 
yielded  once  in  the  hope  that  Mrs.  Frere's  sleepy 
state  might  deepen  ;  the  second  time  she  hardened 
her  heart  and  said  that  she  must  go.  Her  mother's 
groans  stabbed  her  as  she  fled. 

Hilary  almost  ran  into  the  arms  of  a  gendarme. 
The  man  looked  quite  startled  ;  and  it  is  not  to  be 
supposed  that  he  had  ever  before  met  a  young  lady 
running  blindly  ahead  in  such  weather  as  this — a 
young  lady  dressed  for  a  ball,  moreover,  and  with  no 
covering  but  snow-flakes  for  head,  neck,  and  arms. 
He  questioned  her  closely,  with  the  authority  assumed 
in  Germany  by  a  dog  in  office,  and,  thinking  that  he 
might  aid  her,  she  led  him  back  to  where  her  mother 
lay.  This  she  soon  regretted.  He  was  a  good- 
natured  creature,  but  dense,  garrulous,  and  ignorant. 
He  inflicted  on  the  impatient  girl  a  long-winded 
description  of  the  frost-bites  he  had  seen  in  Russia 
and  the  popular  cure  for  them.  He  seemed  to  think 
that  Mrs.  Frere  was  frost-bitten,  and  that  Hilary  soon 
would  be  if  she  did  not  take  his  advice.  He  offered 
to  rub  Mrs.  Frere's  hands  and  feet  with  snow.  Hilary 
begged  him  instead  to  find  them  a  lodging  for  the 
night,  and  to  find  it  without  delay.  She  imagined 
that  she  was  talking  to  an  English  policeman,  who 
thinks  it  his  duty  to  be  civil  and  of  use.  But  this 
Dogberry  resented  the  request,  and  turned  sulky 
when  she  tried  to  insist  on  it.  He  suggested  that 
the  young  lady's  mother  was  probably  suffering  from 
a  complaint  still  more  common  than  frost-bite,  and 
as  he  said  this  he  waved  his  hand  in  the  direction  of 
the  beer-shop  close  by.  He  also  said  that  he  would 


be  round  this  way  again  in  less  than  an  hour,  and 
that,  if  by  that  time  the  ladies  had  not  vanished,  he 
would  take  them  both  to  the  police  bureau.  Hilary 
need  not  attempt  to  bribe  him.  He  had  never  yet 
dishonored  his  uniform  by  accepting  a  bribe. 

There  was  an  uncomfortable  pause.  From  Hilary's 
empty  pockets  she  could  not  extract  the  coin  the  man 
evidently  expected.  She  remained  silent,  and  so  did 
he.  Then  she  said  with  decision,  "Take  us  to  the 
police  bureau.  Help  me  to  carry  my  mother  there. 
It  is  the  best  thing  you  can  do  for  us,  if  you  will  not 
find  us  a  lodging." 

The  man  laughed,  turned  on  his  heel,  and  strode 
away.  He  was  a  stupid  creature,  who  did  not  see 
that  Mrs.  Frere  was  ill,  or  understand  that  Hilary 
meant  what  she  said.  She  ran  after  him  for  a  few 
yards,  but  he  easily  outstripped  her  and  was  soon  out 
of  sight.  The  girl  returned  to  her  mother,  and  tried 
to  make  her  understand  that  they  must  move  again. 
Her  own  limbs  were  aching  acutely  with  cold,  and 
since  she  had  taken  off  her  cloak  the  snow  melted  and 
dripped  on  her  bare  neck  and  arms.  She  thought 
of  the  warm  wrap  she  had  relinquished  as  a  starving 
man  thinks  of  food.  Her  body  hungered  for  the  com- 
fort of  it,  but  she  could  not  take  it  from  under  her 
mother's  head.  It  was  too  dark  just  here  to  see 
Mrs.  Frere's  face  very  plainly.  Her  breath  had 
grown  more  labored,  her  groans  more  distressing. 
She  no  longer  talked  coherently.  Hilary  tried  to 
lift  her  again,  but  she  could  not  manage  it.  She  did 
not  know  what  to  do.  She  blamed  herself  for  letting 
the  gendarme  go.  She  ought  to  have  compelled  him 
to  help  her. 

In  trying  to  lift  her  mother  she  had  slipped  on  the 
snow  herself,  and  for  a  short  time  she  sat  still  where 
she  had  stumbled,  with  Mrs.  Frere's  head  on  her  lap. 
The  fall  had  shaken  and  wrenched  her.  She  felt 
inclined  to  cry,  but  she  drove  back  an  impulse  of 
which  she  felt  ashamed,  and  the  struggle  braced  her. 
She  laid  Mrs.  Frere's  head  gently  on  the  rolled-up 


jfortune'0  tfreafcea  iHnfcinDe.  277 

cloak  again  and  stood  up,  determined  to  leave  her 
mother  and  ask  at  the  first  house  she  came  to  for 
help.  She  would  ask  in  terms  that  admitted  of  no 
refusal.  Her  mother  should  not  die,  like  an  outcast, 
in  the  snow. 

Before  acting  on  this  resolution  she  stood  and 
watched  the  sick  woman  with  lingering  concern.  She 
saw  that  Mrs.  Frere  was  very  ill.  The  great  doctor, 
Herr  Hansen's  friend,  had  warned  her  of  it ;  but  she 
did  not  know  exactly  what  ailed  her,  or  what  course 
the  malady  would  take.  Suppose  this  restlessness 
and  delirium  increased?  Mrs.  Frere  might  get  up 
and  wander  away  while  Hilary  sought  help.  Or  the 
stupor  might  grow  suddenly  worse,  and  end  there  and 
then  in  death.  Hilary  did  not  know  whether  it  was 
safe  to  leave  her  mother  for  a  moment,  and  yet  she 
felt  driven  to  go.  It  was  terrible  to  be  in  the  pres- 
ence of  such  suffering  without  medical  knowledge, 
without  medical  help.  Her  utter  ignorance  felt  like 
cruelty,  like  sin. 

She  had  not  started  yet,  when  she  heard  a  man's 
footstep  trudging  through  the  snow  toward  them. 
She  made  up  her  mind  to  another  and  a  bolder  tussle 
with  the  wooden-headed  gendarme,  but  as  he  ap- 
proached she  saw  that  it  was  a  bigger  man,  and  when 
he  came  quite  close  she  recognized  their  own  doctor. 
With  unspeakable  relief  she  hailed  him,  and  he 
stopped  in  surprise. 

The  storm  of  snow  and  wind  was  gradually  sub- 
siding, and  though  the  moon  did  not  show,  it  lit  the 
sky.  The  doctor  could  see  Mrs.  Frere  lying  on  the 
ground,  and  Hilary  with  no  wrap  over  her  thin  gown, 
shivering,  cramped,  and  white  with  snow.  Her  teeth 
chattered  so  that  she  could  scarcely  speak,  but  she 
managed  to  tell  him  what  had  happened  to  them. 
He,  it  seemed,  had  tried  in  vain  to  get  into  Frau 
Lange's  house,  and  was  now  on  his  way  to  see  a 
patient  in  the  village.  Neither  he  nor  Hilary  wasted 
many  words.  He  stooped  over  Mrs.  Frere  and  shook 
his  head. 


<Bra00bopper0. 

"  Will  she  die  ?  "  said  Hilary. 

He  got  up,  but  made  no  reply.  He  looked  at  the 
nearest  houses  of  the  village,  and  then  at  Mrs.  Frere. 
Then  he  stooped  again,  and  Hilary  saw  that  he 
meant  to  lift  her  mother  in  his  arms.  She  felt  aston- 
ished at  his  strength,  and  envious  of  it.  During  the 
last  few  hours  her  weakness  and  her  ignorance  had 
cost  her  mother  dear. 

"  Put  that  wrap  round  your  own  shoulders,"  he 
said,  as  Hilary  prepared  to  follow  him.  In  his  own 
mind  he  expected  the  girl  to  be  as  ill  as  her  mother 
twenty-four  hours  hence,  but  being  a  wise  man  he 
did  not  say  so.  He  walked  slowly  and  hardly  spoke. 
Hilary  wondered  whether  he  had  any  plan,  where  he 
meant  to  take  them,  and  what  he  thought  of  her 
mother's  condition.  His  silence  tortured  her. 

"  Could  you  have  compelled  them  to  take  us  in  at 
that  tavern  ?  "  she  asked  at  last. 

"  I  would  not  send  a  sick  dog  there,"  he  said  curtly. 

"  There  is  no  other  inn  near." 

"  I  know  of  some  rooms  where  they  will  look  after 
you." 

They  walked  on  for  a  few  yards,  and  then  he 
stopped  with  his  back  against  a  tree  to  rest.  He 
looked  steadily  at  Mrs.  Frere. 

"  You  ought  to  have  sent  for  me  two  days  ago,"  he 
said.  "  I  should  have  forbidden  your  mother  to  leave 
the  house  to-day.  Why  didn't  you  let  me  know  she 
was  worse  again  ?  " 

Hilary  hesitated.  She  could  not  tell  him  the  truth, 
which  was  that  they  hardly  knew  how  to  pay  what 
they  already  owed  him. 

"  Is  she  very  ill  now  ?  "  she  asked  evasively. 

What  he  said  in  reply  was  inarticulate  but  express- 
ive, and  with  the  conviction  that  he  not  unnaturally 
thought  her  a  fool,  Hilary  pulled  herself  together  and 
dragged  after  him  again.  She  wished  he  could  have 
carried  her  as  well  as  Mrs.  Frere. 

At  last  they  stopped  at  a  clean-looking  house  half- 
way down  the  main  street  of  the  village.  Hilary 


fortune's  ffreafces  tanfcin&e.  279 

rang  the  bell,  and  then  propped  herself  against  the 
wall.  It  occurred  to  her  that  she  must  look  uncom- 
monly like  one  of  those  most  miserable  creatures  to 
be  seen  waiting  outside  a  London  workhouse  on  any 
winter  afternoon,  and  that,  without  the  doctor's  intro- 
duction, they  would  probably  have  been  turned  away 
from  this  door  too.  If  they  had  not  met  him,  she 
supposed  they  would  still  be  tramping  here  and  there 
in  the  snow.  Did  the  people  who  went  to  a  work- 
house often  spend  such  a  night  as  this  ?  They 
looked  like  it.  Perhaps  she  was  dreaming,  and  would 
wake  directly  to  find  herself  beside  her  mother  in  the 
snow  again,  with  no  doctor  near.  How  he  stared  ! 

He  thought  she  was  going  to  behave  in  the  tra- 
ditional feminine  manner,  and  collapse  now  that  the 
strain  had  passed  from  her  shoulders  to  his.  A  street 
light  fell  on  her  face,  which  was  pinched  and  wan 
with  cold.  Her  beautiful  eyes  were  full  of  pain,  and 
her  young  mouth  set  firm  with  resolve  to  bear  it 
silently.  Her  fluffy  hair  clung  about  her  brow  and 
the  nape  of  her  neck  in  wet,  half-frozen  strings,  and 
her  gown,  so  trim  that  afternoon,  now  hung  from  her 
shoulders  a  mere  discolored  rag.  He  saw  that  she 
only  kept  her  eyes  open  with  great  difficulty,  and  just 
before  they  were  let  into  the  house  she  did  fall  asleep 
for  a  moment,  and  had  time  to  dream.  She  woke  with 
a  start  and  a  radiant  smile,  with  her  hands  stretched 
out  to  welcome  someone  who  was  not  there.  Even  as 
her  eyes  opened  her  hands  fell  lifelessly,  the  shadows 
deepened  on  her  face  again,  the  smile  died  away. 

The  doctor  had  always  been  puzzled  by  these 
patients.  They  seemed  so  unhappily  out  of  place  in 
Frau  Lange's  house,  so  short  of  money,  and  so  softly 
bred.  He  knew  that  Frau  Lange's  temper  was  almost 
insanely  violent.  Some  years  ago  she  had  been  pros- 
ecuted and  fined  for  ill-treatment  of  a  young  maid- 
servant. He  had  rightly  supposed  all  along  that 
nothing  but  dire  necessity  would  keep  Mrs.  Frere  and 
her  daughters  in  that  household  for  a  day.  But  he 
knew  now  that  Nell  had  married  Herr  Hansen,  and 


280  abe  (Braseboppers. 


he  felt  that  he  might  warrantably  provide  her  mother 
and  sister  with  comfortable  quarters  and  with  a 
capable  nurse.  If  he  found  that  in  Herr  Hansen's  ab- 
sence they  were  friendless,  he  determined  to  see  Frau 
Lange  himself  next  day  and  frighten  her  into  sending 
Mrs.  Frere  clothes,  wine,  and  money.  Mrs.  Frere 
would  die.  He  could  have  no  doubt  of  that,  and  for 
her  death,  at  this  date,  he  held  Frau  Lange  largely 
responsible.  She  had  behaved  inhumanly,  and  he 
did  not  mean  to  spare  either  her  pocket  or  her 
feelings. 

Meanwhile,  for  the  rest  of  the  night  they  must 
make  the  most  of  a  warm,  dry  room,  and  such  clothes 
as  the  woman  of  the  house  could  provide.  Some 
necessary  medicines  he  would  fetch  from  the  village 
chemist  himself.  He  told  Hilary  that  she  as  well  as 
her  mother  must  go  straight  to  bed  ;  but  when  he 
came  back  he  found  the  girl  sitting  up,  and  bent  in- 
vincibly on  staying  with  Mrs.  Frere.  She  was  deaf 
to  his  reproaches,  to  his  commands.  He  half 
doubted  whether  she  understood  what  he  said.  She 
looked  at  him  with  her  dazed,  beautiful  eyes,  frowned 
a  little  as  if  the  sound  of  his  exhortations  wearied 
her,  and  turned  from  him  to  hang  with  mute,  inactive 
grief  over  her  mother's  bed.  He  did  what  he  could 
for  Mrs.  Frere,  and  then  looked  at  the  girl  again  ; 
but  at  that  moment  her  persistence  was  greater  than 
his.  He  went  away. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

LEBEWOHL  ! 

MRS.  FRERE  died  three  days  after  the  doctor  found 
her  lying  in  the  snow.  She  never  recovered  con- 
sciousness, and  passed  away  without  much  pain. 
Hilary  did  not  collapse  at  once.  She  watched  by  her 
mother  to  the  last,  sent  to  the  Werners  for  help,  and 
wrote  to  Nell.  Then  she  was  very  ill.  April  had 
come  when  she  got  up  again  and  began  to  wonder, 
through  the  long,  weak  days  of  convalescence,  what 
she  had  better  do  next.  She  used  to  sit  at  her  bed- 
room window  and  watch  the  buds  of  a  horse  chestnut 
grow  fatter  and  greener  every  day.  For  some  weeks 
the  tree  and  the  afternoon  sunshine  were  all  she  saw 
of  spring.  She  heard  that  the  woods  were  full  of 
anemones  already,  that  the  nightingales  were  singing, 
that  it  was  warm  enough  to  sail  on  the  Alster  by 
moonlight.  Once  Olga  Werner  brought  her  a  great 
basket  of  spring  flowers  ;  but  they  were  precisely  and 
expensively  arranged.  Hilary  longed  to  gather  prim- 
roses in  a  Sussex  copse. 

Except  the  Werners,  there  had  been  no  one  to  look 
after  her  even  while  she  lay  in  strange  lodgings  dan- 
gerously ill.  Frau  Lange  did  not  once  come  near 
her.  She  told  the  doctor,  when  he  called  at  her  house, 
that  the  lock-out  had  been  owing  to  a  deplorable  mis- 
take. She  had  clearly  understood  that  her  sister-in- 
law  and  niece  meant  to  spend  the  night  in  a  Hamburg 
hotel.  Neither  she  nor  her  maid  had  heard  the  bell, 
or  Hilary's  shouts,  or  even  the  gravel  that  broke  a 
window  pane.  They  had  been  amazed  next  morning 
to  find  footsteps  in  the  snow.  The  doctor  did  not 
believe  a  word  she  said.  Her  manner  impressed  him 


282 

most  unfavorably,  but  he  could  not  cross-question  the 
maid,  who  would  probably  tell  a  different  story.  He 
could  only  listen  with  a  skeptical  expression,  assure 
her  she  was  lucky  to  sleep  so  soundly,  and  ask  her  to 
send  on  her  niece's  trunks  at  once.  When  he  called 
again  at  the  house  he  found  it  in  the  hands  of  a  care- 
taker. She  told  him  that  Frau  Lange,  after  dismissing 
her  maid,  had  gone  away  for  change  of  air. 

Through  some  alteration  in  their  traveling  plans 
Nell  never  received  her  sister's  letter.  It  lay  un- 
claimed at  an  Italian  inn.  Meanwhile  Nell's  letters 
went  to  Frau  Lange's  house,  were  not  sent  on,  and, 
of  course,  remained  unanswered.  Herr  Hansen  tele- 
graphed to  the  Werners  for  news,  and  the  reply, 
informing  him  of  Mrs.  Frere's  death,  came  first  by  an 
unlucky  chance  into  Nell's  hands.  The  shock  un- 
nerved her  completely.  She  broke  down,  and  was 
forbidden  to  attempt  the  homeward  journey.  At  the 
end  of  April  Herr  Hansen  and  she  were  still  in  Italy. 

The  Werners  looked  after  Hilary  to  some  extent. 
They  did  not  pay  her  many  visits,  but  they  made 
themselves  responsible  to  the  landlady  for  necessary 
expenses,  and  so  proved  that  the  young  lady  had 
respectable  connections,  and  might  be  taken  care  of 
without  uneasiness  on  the  part  of  a  poor  woman  who 
had  her  living  to  earn.  As  soon  as  she  could  get  out 
of  doors  Hilary  went  to  thank  them,  and  to  tell  them 
that,  about  a  week  later,  she  meant  to  start  for  Eng- 
land. She  found  Frau  Werner  sitting  by  herself  in 
her  favorite  seat  near  a  window,  and  in  front  of  her 
work-table. 

"  But,  my  child,"  said  Frau  Werner,  "  how  can  you 
make  any  plans  until  you  have  consulted  Herr  Han- 
sen ?  He  is  now  the  head  of  the  family." 

"  He  has  no  authority  over  me,"  said  Hilary,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  But  who  else  is  there  until  you  have  a  husband  of 
your  own  ? " 

"  Need  there  be  anyone  ?    I  am  twenty." 

"  My  dear  child,  every  woman  must  take  the  advice 


Zebewobl!  283 

of  some  man  in  all  important  matters.  My  cousin 
Pinchen  is  fifty-six,  and  she  would  not  go  to  Switzer- 
land this  summer  until  she  got  my  husband's  permis- 
sion. She  has  never  been  married,  you  know,  so  she 
comes  to  him.  At  first  he  would  not  allow  her  to  go  ; 
he  said  she  could  not  afford  it  ;  but  I  helped  a  little, 
and  in  the  end  he  gave  way.  Of  course  you  must 
take  Herr  Hansen's  opinion  about  everything  until 
you  put  on  a  matron's  cap  yourself." 

"  But,  Frau  Werner,  I  have  hardly  any  money," 
said  Hilary.  "  I  must  go  back  to  London  and  earn 
my  living.  I  have  been  here  half  a  year  and  found 
no  opening.  I  cannot  be  dependent  on  my  brother- 
in-law.  I  should  not  consider  it  right." 

"  But  it  is  what  he  thinks  right  that  you  ought  to 
do.  How  can  you,  a  girl  of  twenty,  know  anything  ? 
What  is  it  you  propose  ?  Will  you  travel  under  pro- 
tection, go  straight  to  the  bosom  of  a  friendly  family, 
and  wait  there  until  you  hear  of  a  situation  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Hilary,  "  I  shall  have  to  travel  by 
myself,  go  into  cheap  lodgings,  and  hunt  up  and 
down  London  for  work." 

"  Impossible  !  "  cried  Frau  Werner,  evidently  scan- 
dalized. "  It  would  not  be  respectable.  A  girl  of 
twenty  in  lodgings  by  herself  in  Babylon  !  Do  you 
know  that  several  German  and  French  writers  agree 
in  calling  London  the  wickedest  city  in  the  world  ? " 

"  Really,"  said  Hilary,  looking  unconcerned  ;  "but 
it  won't  affect  me,  and  I  never  read  the  police  reports. 
I  shall  live  in  a  respectable  neighborhood  on  as  little 
as  I  can,  and  find  dozens  of  other  lonely  women 
doing  the  same." 

"  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing,"  said  Frau 
Werner. 

"  In  London,"  said  Hilary,  "  there  are  whole  large 
buildings  separated  into  little  flats,  and  let  to  single 
working  women.  When  I  get  on  I  shall  take  one 
myself." 

"  The  single  working  women  would  be  much  better 
married,"  observed  Frau  Werner. 


"  To  bring  that  about,"  said  Hilary,  "'  you  must 
let  a  good  many  men  have  two  wives  apiece.  At  pres- 
ent there  are  not  enough  husbands  to  go  round." 

Frau  Werner  looked  scandalized,  but  not  convinced. 
However,  she  bid  good-by  to  Hilary  very  cordially, 
and  said  that  she  expected  to  see  her  back  again  very 
shortly.  Herr  Hansen  would  summon  her,  and  she 
would,  of  course,  come  at  his  call. 

Hilary  wished  that  she  could  start  that  very  after- 
noon. Having  once  made  up  her  mind  to  see  Lon- 
don again,  she  longed  to  be  off.  A  Swiss  peasant  boy 
in  exile  is  said  to  be  home-sick  for  the  tinkle  of 
the  cow-bells  and  for  the  sight  of  snow-clad  moun- 
tains. Hilary  longed  to  cross  Oxford  Circus  again, 
and  to  hear  a  bus  conductor  invite  her  to  'Igh 
'Olborn  and  the  Benk  ;  but  she  was  far  from  strong 
yet,  and  she  had  a  good  deal  to  do.  She  must 
look  through  her  mother's  trunks,  for  instance,  and 
decide  what  she  would  keep  and  what  she  would  send 
to  Nell — a  task  she  had  put  off  from  day  to  day.  It 
is  such  a  harrowing  business  to  rummage  among  the 
dead  friend's  treasures,  to  apportion  them,  appro- 
priate them,  throw  them  aside  ;  but  this  afternoon, 
when  Hilary  got  home,  she  unlocked  the  biggest 
trunk  and  began  to  unpack  it.  She  was  soon  sur- 
rounded by  the  odds  and  ends  Mrs.  Frere  had  carried 
to  Germany  because  she  loved  them.  Old  letters 
and  nondescript  treasures  took  up  more  room  than 
clothes.  Mrs.  Frere  had  never  cared  to  adorn  herself, 
but  only  her  two  girls. 

Hilary  missed  her  mother  every  hour  of  the  day — 
missed  her  companionship  and  her  tender  interest  in 
all  that  concerned  her  children.  It  was  wretched  to 
come  back  to  this  empty  room  where  no  one  waited 
to  welcome  her,  or  cared  to  hear  what  had  happened. 
This  evening,  as  the  shadows  fell  and  the  dusk  grew 
deeper,  the  girl  wished  that  she  was  not  alone.  She 
had  not  grown  used  to  solitude  yet,  and,  especially  at 
twilight,  ghosts  came  to  keep  her  company.  To- 
night they  came  closer  than  ever,  as  if  her  mother's 


Xebewobl !  285 

things,  strewn  everywhere,  had  summoned  them. 
The  air  felt  heavy,  and  she  set  a  window  open  and 
sat  down  near  it.  From  her  lap  there  trailed  the 
brocade  gown  her  mother  had  worn  on  the  night  of 
the  dance  at  their  home  less  than  a  year  ago.  The 
Brussels  point  that  trimmed  the  bodice  had  long  ago 
been  promised  to  Nell.  When  the  lamp  came, 
Hilary  meant  to  untack  it  and  put  it  carefully  away. 
She  could  not  begin  until  she  had  more  light,  and 
meanwhile,  being  very  tired,  she  leaned  back  and 
shut  her  eyes.  Perhaps  she  dozed  a  little,  because, 
without  having  heard  anyone  ascend  the  stairs,  she 
was  suddenly  startled  by  a  tap  at  her  door,  and  by 
a  voice  she  knew  demanding  admittance.  She  got 
up  hastily  and  went  half  across  the  room,  then  stopped 
stock-still.  Frau  Lange  stood  before  her. 

"  You  ! "  said  the  girl.     "  You  come  to  see  me  ?  " 

"  I  have  brought  you  these,"  replied  her  aunt, 
handing  her  half  a  dozen  letters  addressed  in  Nell's 
writing.  Hilary  took  them. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  then  waited,  expecting 
her  visitor  to  go. 

"  What  do  you  mean  to  do  ?  "  asked  Frau  Lange. 

"  I  am  going  back  to  England." 

"  By  yourself  ?  " 

"  How  else  should  I  go  ?  My  sister  is  married. 
My  mother  is  dead." 

"  Your  mother  was  very  ill  when  she  left  to  go  to 
the  wedding,"  said  Frau  Lange  uneasily. 

"  She  was.  Otherwise,  what  you  did  might  not 
have  killed  her.  I  survived  it,  you  see." 

"  Of  course  I  thought  you  meant  to  sleep  in 
Hamburg." 

Hilary's  icy  silence  and  her  inexpressive  face  were 
eloquent.  Even  Frau  Lange  understood  that  she  was 
not  believed. 

"  You  refuse  to  take  my  word  ? "  she  said. 

"  Of  course  I  do.  If  you  thought  we  should  not 
come  back,  why  did  you  lock  Auguste  in  her  room  so 
that  she  could  not  let  us  in  ? " 


286  ^be  CJrassboppers 


"  What  do  you  know  about  that  ?  Have  you  been 
getting  at  Auguste  ?  Has  she  written  to  you  ?  " 

"  I  have  neither  seen  her  nor  heard  from  her,  but  I 
know  that  the  noise  I  made  must  have  waked  you 
both." 

"  I  did  not  expect  you  back,"  said  Frau  Lange. 
"  I  told  you  you  should  not  come  inside  my  house 
again.  Why  did  you  not  believe  me  ?  " 

"  At  that  time,"  said  Hilary,  "  we  merely  thought 
you  a  disagreeable  woman.  We  did  not  know  you 
were  a  downright  wicked  one.  You  say  yourself  you 
knew  my  mother  was  ill.  We  never  supposed  you 
would  let  her  die  in  the  streets.  Do  you  understand 
what  happened  ?  She  was  dying  at  your  door  and 
you  did  not  let  her  in.  She  had  to  drag  through  the 
snow  when  she  was  gasping  for  breath.  Do  you 
remember  that  night  how  the  wind  howled  ?  We 
could  hardly  stand  against  it.  At  last  my  mother  fell 
from  sheer  exhaustion,  and  lay  on  the  ground  freezing 
until  -  I  hope  you  see  it,  I  hope  you  will  see  it 
when  you  are  dying  yourself.  I  see  it  night  and  day. 
She  was  in  great  pain  and  most  miserable  -  Why 
are  you  here  ?  Go  !  " 

Frau  Lange  started  back  as  if  she  thought  her 
niece  might  have  struck  her,  the  girl  looked  so 
angry. 

After  speaking  of  her  mother  in  a  voice  of  mourn- 
ful indignation  she  had  stopped,  half-choked  with 
grief,  and  then  suddenly  seemed  to  repent  having 
parleyed  with  her  enemy  at  all. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  talking?  "  she  cried.  "What 
can  you  and  I  possibly  have  to  say  to  each  other  now  ? 
You  know  what  you  have  done." 

"  I  am  sure  your  mother  would  have  died,"  said 
Frau  Lange.  "  She  was  very  ill." 

"  We  shall  all  die,  and  until  I  do  I  shall  remember 
that  night." 

Hilary  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  and  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  floor.  She  was  trembling  with  anger 
and  weakness,  She  felt  as  if  the  last  few  minutes 


lebewobl !  287 

had  blotted  out  the  long,  quiet  days  of  convalescence, 
and  taken  her  straight  back  to  the  dreadful  hours 
when  she  watched  her  mother  sink  out  of  life. 

Before  either  of  them  spoke  again  the  landlady 
arrived  with  a  lamp,  and  then  Hilary  saw  that  her 
aunt  wore  deep  mourning,  and  that  she  looked  sallow 
and  ill. 

"  It  is  not  proper  for  you  to  go  back  to  England 
by  yourself,"  she  began,  when  they  were  by  them- 
selves. "  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing.  Why  don't 
you  come  and  live  with  me  ? " 

"  What  ?  "  exclaimed  Hilary. 

"Come  and  live  with  me." 

"  I  would  rather  beg  in  the  streets." 

"Your  mother  would  not  have  been  so  unfor- 
giving." 

"  I  am  not  sure.  If  you  had  turned  me  out  of 
doors  when  I  was  dying " 

"  You  are  a  wicked,  ungrateful  girl.  Luckily,  I 
have  a  clear  conscience.  How  will  you  earn  your 
bread  ?  I  offer  it  you  for  nothing." 

"  Your  bread  would  choke  me.  Is  it  possible  that 
you  don't  see  that  ? " 

Hilary  had  sat  down  because  she  felt  unable  to 
stand  any  longer,  but  she  did  not  invite  her  aunt  to 
take  a  seat,  and  she  was  quite  resolved  that  she  would 
not  shake  hands  with  her  at  parting. 

"I  shall  not  repeat  my  offer,"  said  Frau  Lange, 
her  voice  rising  as  it  used  to  do  when  she  was  on  the 
verge  of  a  rage.  "  If  you  change  your  mind,  you 
must  make  advances  to  me  before  the  week  is  out. 
Unless  I  hear  from  you,  I  shall  adopt  an  orphan, 
and  leave  her  all  my  money." 

Hilary  remained  steadily  silent. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  go  down  on  my  knees  to 
you  ? "  shrieked  her  aunt,  edging  nearer  to  the  door 
every  moment,  and  yet  saying  something  more 
at  each  fresh  step,  as  if  she  found  her  niece's 
adamant  manner  most  difficult  to  accept.  "  If  you 
come,  you  come  as  my  daughter,  That  is  under- 


288  Gbe  (Brassboppers. 

stood.  I  must  leave  my  money  to  someone.  I  hope 
to  live  another  thirty  years  certainly — I  am  not  joking 
about  the  orphan.  1  have  made  inquiries.  I  can 
have  one  any  age  I  like,  and  any  complexion.  There 
are  all  sorts  and  sizes  at  the  asylum.  It's  very 
fine  to  be  proud,  but  when  one  is  hungry  three  times 
a  day — well,  I  have  done  my  duty  and  can  sleep  in 
peace  to-night.  When  I  get  to  heaven  I  shall  say 
to  my  blessed  husband,  '  I  offered  your  starving 
niece  my  home  and  my  fortune,  and  she  did  not  even 
open  her  mouth  to  say,  Thank  you.'  He  will  not  be 
surprised.  He  always  said  my  generous  heart  would 
bring  me  to  grief,  and  so  it  has.  If  I  had  not  taken 
pity  on  you,  and  opened  my  house  to  you  all,  I  should 
not  be  standing  here  to-day." 

Perhaps  it  occurred  to  Frau  Lange  at  last  that  at 
any  moment  she  might  quit  the  position  she  professed 
to  find  so  disagreeable.  At  any  rate,  with  a  last 
lingering  look  of  bewilderment  at  Hilary's  profile, 
she  turned  really  round,  and  went  out  of  the  room 
with  a  bang.  As  she  tramped  down  the  stairs,  her 
niece's  hardly  kept  composure  gave  way.  Hilary  be- 
gan to  cry,  and  to  wonder  whether  she  had  been  too 
hard  on  a  creature  only  half  sane.  But  behind  all 
her  thoughts  and  images  in  these  days  she  heard  her 
mother  moaning  in  the  snow.  She  felt  sometimes 
as  if  the  memory  turned  her  heart  to  stone. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

LIFE    IN    A    GARRET. 

ALTHOUGH  it  was  stormy  weather  Hilary  stayed  on 
deck.  The  ship  might  pitch  and  toss  as  it  pleased, 
but  it  cut  its  way  through  the  water  homeward  bound. 
Every  wave  that  broke  against  the  bulwarks  was  in  an 
English  sea.  The  wild  air  blew  across  her  face  and 
left  a  delicious  taste  of  salt  on  her  lips,  the  spray 
dashed  over  her,  the  wind  whistled  in  her  ears.  She 
watched  the  chopping,  dull  green  water.  She  listened 
to  the  sailors  talking  to  each  other.  How  pleasant  to 
be  back  again  where  English  was  the  common  tongue  ! 
Even  her  memories,  even  her  apprehensions  for  the 
future,  could  not  alter  the  exhilarating  fact  that  every 
moment  brought  her  nearer  to  the  British  Isles. 

What  she  would  do  when  she  got  there  she  hardly 
knew.  She  had  twenty  pounds  in  her  possession  all 
told,  and  even  this  belonged  by  rights  to  Nell.  In 
accordance  with  Mrs.  Frere's  request,  the  five  hundred 
pounds  her  daughter  could  claim  on  her  marriage  had 
been  paid  in  at  a  Hamburg  bank  directly  the  marriage 
was  an  accomplished  fact.  Nell  had  arranged  to  leave 
the  sum  in  her  mother's  hands  ;  and  as  after  Mrs.  Frere's 
death  all  the  trousseau  bills  came  to  Hilary  for  settle- 
ment, Herr  Werner  helped  her  to  get  possession  of 
the  money  intended  for  them.  It  soon  melted  away. 
Every  post  seemed  to  bring  in  unpaid  bills  either 
from  London  or  Hamburg ;  and  Hilary  had  been 
obliged  to  use  a  certain  amount  for  the  expenses  of 
her  mother's  funeral  and  of  her  own  illness.  When 
she  had  taken  her  ticket  to  London,  and  satisfied  all 
her  creditors,  she  had  twenty  pounds  left.  In  Octo- 
ber she  would  receive  another  ten  pounds — the  half- 


290  £be  (Sraseboppers. 

yearly  interest  on  her  little  capital.  So  she  had  two 
problems  to  solve  :  How  could  she  keep  body  and 
soul  together  for  eight  months'  on  thirty  pounds  ? 
And  what  could  she  do  to  secure  an  equally  splendid 
income  for  the  following  year  ?  Her  old  vision  of  a 
two-pound  country  cottage  had  come  up,  and  been 
rejected  as  unworthy  of  her  youth  and  energy.  She 
must  try  to  earn  her  bread  ;  besides,  no  arithmetic 
had  convinced  her  that,  even  in  a  cottage,  she  could 
exist  for  fifty-two  long  weeks  on  twenty  pounds.  No 
doubt,  many  people  did,  but  she  had  not  been  born 
among  them.  She  supposed  that  such  an  income 
would  bring  real  comfort  to  an  Indian  ryot,  or  even  to 
one  of  Miss  Barlow's  Irish  peasants.  But  when  she 
tried  to  live  on  rice  or  potatoes  she  got  ill.  Her  experi- 
ments of  this  kind  not  only  ended  in  failure,  but  were 
excessively  uncomfortable. 

Hilary  had  not  written  to  any  of  her  old  friends. 
The  life  before  her  was  so  untried  and  strange  that 
she  felt  inclined  to  see  how  it  worked  before  inviting 
anyone  to  a  private  view.  She  could  not  ask  girls  of 
her  own  age,  who  lived  with  their  parents  in  pleasant 
homes,  to  come  and  eat  bread  and  dripping  with  her 
in  an  attic.  She  expected  to  live  a  good  deal  on  bread 
and  dripping.  It  is  possible  that  you  will  not  have 
much  sympathy  with  Hilary's  plans  and  fears.  You 
may  have  come  across  people  with  less  than  twenty 
pounds  in  their  pockets,  and  with  no  firmer  hold  on 
the  future  than  hers  ;  people  who,  nevertheless,  made 
solid  meals  when  they  were  hungry,  and  changed  a 
sovereign  without  a  pang.  And  if  you  have  always 
lived  safe  and  sheltered  in  a  comfortable  home,  you 
will  not  understand  how  forlorn  and  anxious  the  girl 
felt.  You  have  never  been  obliged  to  consider  how 
costly  are  the  bare  necessaries  of  life,  how  imperious 
our  bodily  demands  from  hour  to  hour.  Hilary  meant 
to  live  in  London  on  fifteen  shillings  a  week.  If  she 
succeeded,  twenty-five  pounds  would  last  her  nearly 
eight  months,  and  she  would  still  have  a  five-pound 
note  for  an  emergency.  With  her  ideas  of  London 


Xife  In  a  (Barret  291 

prices,  the  prospect  was  not  exhilarating.  Unless  she 
found  work  at  once  she  would  soon  be  half-starved  ; 
and  food  is  not  the  only  pressing  need  to  a  person  of 
nice  habits.  In  London  it  costs  money  to  keep  warm 
and  clean. 

The  only  person  in  London  who  expected  Hilary 
was  a  former  maid,  married  to  a  flourishing  greengrocer 
in  Bloomsbury.  As  the  expense  of  an  hotel,  even  for 
a  night  or  two,  was  out  of  question,  she  had  written  to 
this  woman  and  asked  her  to  recommend  a  respectable 
room.  By  return  of  post  she  had  received  a  cordial 
invitation  to  stay  with  Mrs.  YVilkins  and  look  out  for 
a  room  at  leisure.  Hilary  gladly  accepted  the  offer 
for  a  single  night.  But  when  she  got  there  she  found 
it  very  difficult  to  make  the  greengrocer's  wife  under- 
stand the  real  state  of  affairs.  Mrs.  Wilkins  had  never 
heard  of  a  young  lady  wishing  to  live  like  a  work  girl 
in  a  cheap  room  with  no  one  to  "  do  "  for  her.  Since 
Miss  Nell  had  married  a  rich  gentleman,  surely  she 
would  not  let  her  sister  want  for  anything.  It  was 
finally  the  greengrocer  himself  who  came  to  the  rescue. 
He  said  he  had  a  widowed  aunt  in  reduced  circum- 
stances who  lived  just  out  of  the  Tottenham  Court 
Road  and  took  in  lodgers.  A  very  respectable  young 
woman,  a  dressmaker  by  trade,  occupied  her  first  floor, 
but  a  young  lady  in  the  drapery  line  had  lately  left, 
having  bettered  herself  by  going  to  a  house  where  all 
the  hands  slept  on  the  premises. 

Hilary  jumped  at  this  opportunity,  and  went  off  at 
once  to  look  at  the  room.  She  was  taken  to  an  attic 
on  the  top  of  a  small  house  in  one  of  those  streets 
where  all  the  children  play  out  of  doors.  On  wet  days, 
when  the  organ-grinders  and  the  children  stay  at  home, 
the  street  was  a  quiet  one.  Hilary  thought  that  if  she 
could  have  spent  five  pounds  on  the  room,  she  might 
have  made  it  quite  engaging.  With  a  clean  yellow 
paper  and  white  paint,  a  bit  of  blue  felt  and  a  dozen 
yards  of  the  right  cretonne,  no  one  need  mind  coming 
home  there.  But  the  idea  of  living  in  it  as  it  was 
appalled  her.  The  boards  cried  out  for  a  scrub  ;  the 


292  Gbe  ©rassboppers. 

strip  of  carpet  had  lost  all  color;  the  counterpane 
had  evidently  weathered  the  winter  fogs  ;  the  wall 
paper  had  perhaps  been  lavender  many  years  ago. 
Patches  of  it  here  and  there  were  altogether  missing. 
The  painted  chest  of  drawers  blocked  the  only  window, 
and  served  as  a  dressing  table.  The  solitary  chair 
was  a  cane  one,  with  an  imperfect  seat.  The  landlady 
explained  that  Hilary's  predecessor  had  come  back 
late  at  night  from  her  work,  and  had  gone  straight  to 
bed.  Sundays  she  used  to  spend  out  with  friends. 
For  the  room,  without  attendance,  she  had  paid  four 
shillings  a  week.  Hilary  agreed  to  these  terms,  and 
engaged  the  room  from  the  morrow.  She  could  not 
expect  to  find  anything  better  unless  she  paid  more 
for  it,  and  she  considered  it  worth  something  to  feel 
sure  that  the  house  was  a  quiet,  respectable  one.  Mrs. 
Wilkinshad  said  a  great  deal  to  her  about  the  necessity 
of  being  careful  where  she  pitched  her  tent. 

When  she  got  there  on  the  following  afternoon  the 
place  looked  rather  tidier.  A  clean  though  ragged 
short  blind  had  been  stretched  across  the  window  on 
a  tape.  Everything  had  been  dusted,  and  a  small 
Pembroke  table  added  to  the  furniture.  Mrs.  Wilkins 
had  insisted  on  lending  Hilary  an  easy-chair,  and  she 
had  advised  the  young  lady  to  buy  a  kettle,  a  small 
petroleum  stove,  a  frying-pan,  and  about  a  dozen 
other  odds  and  ends  that,  even  in  an  attic,  are  neces- 
sary to  housekeeping — because  Hilary  had  undertaken 
to  wait  entirely  on  herself.  Mrs.  Wilkins  supposed 
she  would  have  most  of  her  meals  at  Shoolbred's,  and 
reminded  her  that  she  could  not  go  there  on  Sundays. 
Hilary  said  she  had  thought  of  that.  Altogether,  her 
inauguration  cost  her  over  a  pound,  and  the  first  thing 
she  did  when  she  was  left  to  herself  was  to  reckon 
how  much  less  than  fifteen  shillings  a  week  she  must 
spend  in  order  that  thirteen  pounds  ten  should  last 
her  till  October.  She  felt  sure  that  a  good  deal  of  it 
would  be  needed  for  fees  to  registry  offices,  fares,  and 
clothes.  She  might  find  something  in  her  trunks  to 
sell,  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst  ;  and,  of  course, 


Xife  in  a  Qarret.  293 

rather  than  starve  she  would  apply  for  help  to  Herr 
Hansen.  But  she  hoped  she  would  not  be  driven  to 
that.  It  exasperated  her  to  find  everyone  take  for 
granted  that  she  would  sit  down  supinely  and  exist  on 
his  bounty.  The  most  arduous  life  would  be  more 
respectable. 

That  first  evening  Hilary  was  too  much  occupied  to 
feel  dejected.  She  had  her  purchases  to  unpack  and 
stow  away,  and  her  two  huge  trunks  to  overhaul.  In 
one  of  them  she  found  the  delicate  table  and  bed  linen 
saved  by  her  mother  from  the  wreck  of  their  home. 
Part  of  this  she  took  out  for  daily  use.  Then  she 
unpacked  her  books  and  the  few  clothes  fit  for  her 
present  surroundings.  One  of  the  two  trunks  was 
nearly  full  of  useless  clothes,  and  she  wondered 
whether  she  would  be  able  to  sell  them  for  sums  that 
would  supply  her  with  necessaries.  She  had  a  white 
satin  ball-gown,  and  not  one  pair  of  strong  boots  ; 
she  had  white  ostrich  feathers,  and  no  tidy  dark 
gloves  ;  the  yellow  gauze  she  had  worn  at  their  own 
dance  was  as  good  as  new,  while  her  everyday  serge 
had  looked  shabby  months  ago.  Of  course,  if  she 
soon  found  well-paid  work,  she  might  still  be  glad  of 
her  pretty  things.  She  would  not  barter  them  for 
pence  yet  awhile.  If  she  began  to  earn  enough  to  live 
on,  she  could  do  like  the  young  lady  in  the  drapery 
line,  and  visit  her  friends  on  Sundays.  Could  she 
ever  go  for  a  walk  with  Dick  again  ?  From  her  own 
home  it  is  so  easy  for  a  girl  to  brave  Mrs.  Grundy, 
but  when  once  she  is  really  shelterless,  it  behooves  her 
to  be  careful.  Nevertheless,  Hilary  thought  that  if 
Dick  considered  it  all  right — when  would  he  be  back 
from  New  York,  she  wondered.  He  had  never 
answered  her  letter  announcing  Mrs.  Frere's  death, 
so  she  took  for  granted  he  was  still  away.  The  wild 
hyacinths  would  soon  be  out  in  the  Surrey  woods.  If 
he  wanted  her  to  go  and  see  them,  how  could  she  say 
him  nay?  But  suppose  he  did  not  write  until  after 
his  visit  to  Hamburg  in  May,  and  then  proclaimed  his 
engagement  to  Olga  Werner.  Such  things  happened, 


294  Hbe  <Bra06boppers. 

and  people  had  to  grind  at  life  just  the  same,  having 
breakfast,  tea,  and  dinner  every  day — earning  them 
painfully,  if  they  were  poor.  Would  it  be  worth  while 
to  live  year  after  year  in  such  a  room  as  this,  spending 
the  light  hours  in  drudgery,  and  the  dark  ones  stupidly 
asleep?  Luckily,  when  you  are  very  poor  and  very 
unhappy,  your  instinct  is  to  live  from  hour  to  hour,  not 
to  dwell  much  on  a  future  that  only  threatens.  Hilary 
threw  open  her  window,  and  listened  to  the  evening 
bells.  The  greengrocer  had  given  her  a  bunch  of 
wallflowers  that  filled  the  air  with  spring.  Even  here 
the  sparrows  chirped  and  twittered  sociably.  The 
girl  envied  them.  She  hankered  after  the  sound  of  a 
friendly  voice,  the  sight  of  a  familiar  face.  It  made 
her  melancholy  to  be  quite  alone.  Well,  then — she 
must  be  melancholy  until  the  wiser  mood  arrived  in 
its  turn.  Meanwhile  she  would  brew  herself  a  cup 
of  tea. 

Next  morning  it  was  very  odd  to  wake  and  remem- 
ber gradually  that  no  one  would  bring  her  hot  water, 
or  even  get  her  breakfast  ready.  She  made  her  own 
bed,  and  tidied  the  room  while  the  water  boiled  for 
her  tea.  With  the  help  of  Mrs.  Wilkins  she  had 
moved  the  chest  of  drawers  and  put  the  table  in  front 
of  the  window.  She  had  nothing  for  breakfast  but  tea 
and  bread  and  butter.  She  meant  to  spend  five  shil- 
lings a  week  on  food,  and  not  a  penny  more.  She 
reckoned  that  she  could  afford  half  a  crown  out  of 
this  sum  for  meat,  vegetables,  and  puddings.  She 
had  often  read  descriptions  of  the  purchases  made  by 
people  who  lived  on  still  less  ;  and,  of  course,  she 
knew  that  at  this  very  moment  there  must  be  thou- 
sands solving  the  problem  she  found  so  difficult.  She 
wished  she  could  remember  more  details.  She  had  an 
impression  that  she  ought  to  be  eating  dripping  instead 
of  butter  ;  she  must  find  her  landlady  and  ask  where 
she  could  buy  dripping.  Perhaps,  when  she  had  more 
experience,  she  would  look  on  butter  as  an  unattain- 
able luxury,  like  peaches  or  champagne.  She  wished 
she  knew  a  little  more  about  those  nutritious  and 


Xffe  in  a  Garret.  295 

toothsome  dishes  that  can  be  prepared  at  the  cost  of 
a  halfpenny  per  head,  and  which  philanthropists  are 
always  recommending  to  our  improvident  lower  classes. 
What  was  pease  pudding  ?  Could  she  swallow  tripe 
if  she  bought  it  at  a  cook  shop  ?  Dickens  makes 
people  eat  pettitoes.  What  were  pettitoes  ?  Her  only 
idea  had  been  to  buy  one  mutton  chop  every  day  ; 
but  when  she  went  out  after  breakfast  and  found  that 
a  fat  bony  one  cost  eightpence,  she  began  to  cast 
about  for  cheaper  and  more  satisfying  meals.  How- 
ever, she  had  other  important  matters  to  think  of  first. 
She  had  bought  the  day's  Times  as  well  as  the  chop, 
and  when  she  got  home  she  sat  down  to  look  at  the 
scholastic  advertisements.  Several  promising  ones 
met  her  eye.  One  offered  eighty  pounds  to  a  young 
lady  who  could  teach  French  and  music  to  a  child 
of  twelve  ;  another  offered  rather  less  for  German 
and  elementary  Latin.  Hilary  copied  down  several 
addresses,  all  in  the  neighborhood  of  Regent  Street 
and  Oxford  Street,  and  when  she  had  eaten  her  chop 
she  sallied  forth  and  hunted  out  the  first  one.  To 
her  surprise  she  found  herself  at  the  doors  of  an 
inquiry  office.  She  went  in. 

Her  experience  is  hardly  worth  mentioning,  it  was 
so  common.  The  post  she  inquired  after  had  just 
been  given  away  to  a  young  lady  of  great  attain- 
ments ;  but  if  Hilary  would  pay  five  shillings,  and  put 
her  name  down  in  the  office  books,  she  would  shortly 
hear  of  something  equally  to  her  advantage.  In  fact, 
the  sharp-looking  female  in  authority  hinted  that  she 
knew  of  several  excellent  openings  from  which  the 
young  lady  could  choose — when  she  had  paid  her  five 
shillings.  Hilary  spent  fifteen  shillings  in  fees  that 
afternoon.  Every  advertisement  that  had  attracted 
her  had  been  put  in  by  an  inquiry  office,  and  by  an 
odd  series  of  accidents  every  vacancy  described  had 
just  been  filled.  Some  of  the  offices  took  five  shil- 
lings, others  only  half  a  crown,  but  they  all  promised 
to  send  Hilary  just  what  she  wanted  in  the  course  of 
a  few  days.  She  walked  home  tired,  sober,  and  hope- 


296  $be  (Brassboppers, 

ful.  She  had  taken  the  first  steps  that  day  toward  an 
honorable  independence.  On  the  strength  of  it  she 
bought  two  halfpenny  oranges  to  eat  for  supper. 
The  dusts  of  the  streets  had  made  her  very  thirsty. 

At  the  end  of  a  fortnight  Hilary  knew  more  than 
she  had  done  before  about  certain  inquiry  offices,  and 
she  had  largely  increased  her  acquaintance  with 
remote  London  suburbs.  But  the  honorable  inde- 
pendence was  still  to  win.  From  three  out  of  the 
four  offices  to  which  she  had  paid  fees  she  never 
even  got  the  chance  of  work.  She  called  over 
and  over  again,  and  was  received  at  first  with  affable 
indifference,  that  soured  a  little  as  time  went  on,  and 
in  one  instance  turned  to  unpleasant  bluster.  Her 
persistence,  they  hinted,  had  long  ago  worn  out  her 
halfcrown.  They  did  not  care  to  recommend  young 
persons  who  had  neither  experience  nor  certificates. 
Hilary  did  not  look  like  a  governess.  There  was  a 
something  about  her.  Would  she  consent  to  train  for 
the  ballet  ?  They  knew  a  gentleman  who  taught 
skirt-dancing  in  twelve  lessons.  Hilary  did  not 
pester  that  office  again,  and  when  she  got  home  she 
looked  in  the  glass  to  find  out  what  the  "  something 
about  her,"  was  that  stood  in  her  way.  Her  plain 
sailor  hat  suited  her.  Perhaps  she  had  better  buy 
a  cheap  dowdy  bonnet.  Her  hair  would  glitter  and 
blow  into  feathery  little  curls,  however  well  she 
brushed  it.  Though  her  jacket  had  been  bought 
last  year,  it  still  looked  modish  and  well  cut.  But 
her  frock  and  boots  and  gloves  were  painfully  shabby. 
Surely  they  matched  her  quest.  When  it  grew  hotter 
still  she  would  be  obliged  to  go  about  without  her 
jacket.  But  then  she  would  look  more  girlish  than 
ever. 

At  another  office  they  seemed  to  bear  her  a  grudge 
because  she  wished  to  teach  and  not  to  cook.  They 
said  that  all  day  long  they  were  besieged  by  prayers 
for  cooks — plains,  generals,  soups  and  jellies,  any 
kind  and  price  of  cook.  If  Hilary  would  spend  a 
year  at  one  of  the  cookery  schools  and  come  back  at 


Xife  In  a  CJarret.  297 

the  end  of  it  they  could  promise  her  twenty  pounds 
a  year  and  all  found.  If  she  had  not  been  a  lady, 
they  could  have  promised  more.  Hilary  reminded 
them  that  they  had  promised  her  the  work  she  wanted 
before  they  took  her  fee. 

The  first  office  she  had  entered  was  not  a  mere 
robber's  den.  The  superintendent  sent  Hilary  hither 
and  thither,  and  it  was  not  her  fault  that  the  girl  came 
away  unhired.  In  each  case  her  inexperience  made 
her  impossible.  Not  that  the  good  ladies  she  saw  in 
various  suburban  drawing  rooms  attached  any  value 
to  real  training.  They  would  have  stared  if  you  had 
told  them  that  a  teacher  ought,  by  rights,  to  be 
trained  as  carefully  as  a  nurse  or  a  cook.  It  was  a 
mere  superstition  that  stood  in  Hilary's  way.  If 
only  she  had  been  "out"  for  a  month,  she  would 
easily  have  secured  one  of  the  posts  now  denied  to 
her.  She  got  quite  hardened  in  time  ;  learned  to 
insist  on  her  own  merits,  to  lay  stress  on  her  accom- 
plishments, even  to  offer  her  services  on  trial  gratis, 
like  an  advertised  sewing  machine.  But  the  weeks 
went  on,  the  summer  came,  and  her  sense  of  failure 
grew  more  sickening  every  day.  She  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  Of  course  a  girl  with  more  enterprise, 
with  more  knowledge  of  the  world,  would  probably 
have  forced  her  way  in  somewhere.  Hilary  took  a 
rebuff.  When  people  said  they  did  not  want  her  she 
turned  dejectedly  away,  instead  of  convincing  them 
that  they  were  mistaken.  And  sundry  small  adven- 
tures had  made  her  more  timid  than  she  had  been 
before.  A  girl  fresh  from  home  and  from  the  con- 
ventual shelter  of  a  college  knows  so  little  of  the  ugly 
side  of  life.  The  least  brush  of  it  gives  alarm.  In 
the  course  of  her  wanderings  Hilary  had  come  across 
a  burlesque  actress  who  offered  her  a  brandy  and  soda, 
and  told  her  she  was  a  fool  to  teach  brats  when  she 
had  just  the  figure  for  tights.  She  should  interview 
the  manager  of  the  Cytherean,  and  show  him  how 
high  she  could  kick.  On  another  occasion  she  had 
answered  an  advertisement  for  a  lady  housekeeper, 


298  abe  <3ras0bopper0, 


and  found  that  the  sole  inmate  of  a  shabby-genteel 
house  was  an  elderly  man,  who  wished  to  engage  her 
on  the  spot.  She  fled. 

When  the  only  active  office  tired  of  trying  to  help 
her,  she  went  to  call  on  some  of  her  old  friends. 
Nothing  came  of  it.  The  good-natured  ones  asked 
her  to  dinner,  and  insisted  on  calling  a  cab  to  take 
her  home.  At  least  this  happened  once,  and  it  cost 
her  two  shillings.  She  could  not  afford  the  risk 
again.  When  she  told  the  hostess  and  her  daughters 
that  she  wished  to  go  out  as  a  governess,  they  smiled 
and  promised  to  remember  it.  Everyone  promised 
to  let  her  know  directly  anything  nice  and  suitable 
offered.  And  the  weeks  went  by  —  burning,  hot, 
dusty,  difficult  to  fill.  The  little  attic  felt  baked  and 
airless  by  night  as  well  as  by  day.  No  food  within 
her  means  could  tempt  her  appetite.  She  grew  weak 
and  white  and  hollow-eyed.  Very  soon  she  would 
have  to  change  her  last  five-pound  note  but  one. 
She  often  dreamed  of  the  sea. 

Lately  she  sometimes  spent  the  hottest  days  in 
Regent's  Park,  hating  the  long,  inactive  hours,  and 
yet  not  knowing  how  to  make  them  busy.  She 
wondered  whether  Dick  had  come  back  from  New 
York  yet.  He  had  never  written.  Suppose  he  had 
died  out  there  ?  The  mere  notion  cost  Hilary  a  pang, 
and  taught  her  how  far  the  hope  of  seeing  Dick 
sustained  her.  The  picture  of  him  either  dead  or 
married  gave  her  intolerable  pain. 

One  evening,  toward  the  end  of  July,  she  took  a 
book  into  the  Park,  and  found  a  quiet  bench  near  the 
south  end  of  the  Broad  Walk.  For  a  long  time  she 
did  not  attempt  to  read.  She  felt  disconsolate  and 
dull.  The  life  she  had  led  of  late  affected  her 
spirits.  She  longed  for  companionship,  and  for  the 
habits  that  turned  out  to  be  as  necessary  to  her 
well-being  as  the  air  she  breathed.  She  felt  choked 
with  heat,  lonely,  and  half-starved.  Sometimes  her 
miseries  seemed  self-created,  because  at  any  moment 
a  begging  letter  to  her  rich  brother-in-law  would  have 


life  in  a  Oarret.  299 

ended  them.  There  is  no  doubt  that  with  the 
hospital  or  the  workhouse  staring  her  in  the  face,  she 
would  have  asked  him  to  save  her  from  either.  And, 
inasmuch  as  she  could  depend  on  him  if  the  worst 
came  to  the  worst,  she  knew  herself  to  be  more  fortu- 
nate than  many  women  just  as  softly  bred.  But  she 
could  not  bring  herself  to  say  to  Herr  Hansen  that, 
because  he  had  married  her  sister  out  of  compassion, 
he  must  support  her  in  ease  and  idleness.  She  might 
still  be  driven  to  make  the  appeal,  but  even  now, 
when  everything  ahead  looked  gloomy,  she  vowed 
she  would  put  off  the  humiliating  day  as  long  as  she 
could.  When  she  came  to  her  last  penny  she  might 
find  it  easier  to  beg. 

Nell  evidently  no  more  understood  her  sister's 
difficulties  than  the  princess  understood  what  fam- 
ine meant  when  she  asked  why  the  starving  peas- 
ants did  not  eat  cake.  Nell's  letters  were  airy, 
full  of  herself,  and  quite  uncomprehending.  She 
wondered  why  Hilary  had  kept  some  of  the  trousseau 
money  for  her  own  needs,  and  even  hinted  that,  being 
in  Paris,  she  might  have  found  a  use  for  it  herself. 
Her  last  letter  bore  a  Paris  postmark.  Hilary  took 
it  out  of  her  pocket  and  looked  down  the  pages 
again. 

"  I  suppose  you're  enjoying  yourself  [it  began]. 
You  always  did  hanker  after  a  bachelor  life  and 
your  own  latchkey.  Fritz  is  rather  shocked.  I  tell 
him  you're  in  a  real  lively  set  by  this  time,  all  living 
in  the  same  way,  and  frisking  about  the  town  from 
morning  till  night.  I  suppose  you  give  each  other 
little  dinners  and  suppers.  Where  do  you  grub  ?  I 
told  Fritz  you  probably  had  lunch  at  the  Savoy,  and 
supper  at  the  Continental.  It  does  him  good  to 
think  so,  even  if  it  isn't  true.  I  dare  say  Shoolbred  is 
good  enough  for  you,  as  a  rule.  You'll  find  Fritz 
improved.  I  don't  let  him  tuck  his  napkin  in  his 
waistcoat,  and  he's  had  his  hair  cut.  But  the  other 
day  he  asked  me  to  fetch  him  his  pipe.  I  did  laugh. 


3°°  <Ibe  (Brassboppers. 

I  have  just  sent  you  a  box  of  early  peaches.  How 
can  you  keep  cool  in  London  now  ?  I  am  wearing 
nothing  but  white,  with  a  touch  of  black  about  it.  I 
am  buying  any  amount  of  new  clothes  here.  I  don't 
like  the  things  I  got  in  Hamburg.  Besides,  they  are 
colored.  I  should  like  to  have  a  week's  lark  with 
you.  Could  you  put  me  up  ?  Do  you  ever  see  the 
Theodores  or  Dick  Lorimer  ? " 

Hilary  had  only  received  the  letter  that  morning, 
and  she  meant  to  write  in  a  day  or  two  and  explain 
that  she  could  not  put  Nell  up.  She  had  pulled  it 
out  just  now  to  look  at  Dick  Lorimer's  name  again. 
He  seemed  to  have  vanished  out  of  her  life  lately. 
She  did  not  even  know  whether  he  was  in  England  or 
America,  or  whether  he  had  ever  received  her  letter 
announcing  her  mother's  death.  Many  a  time,  since 
she  had  been  back,  some  stranger  with  a  chance 
resemblance  to  him  had  startled  and  then  disappointed 
her.  When  she  left  Hamburg  she  had  looked  for- 
ward to  seeing  him  soon  after  she  arrived,  and  she 
knew  that,  with  him  in  London,  she  would  never  have 
reached  her  present  pitch  of  forlornness.  Her  hunger 
for  a  glimpse  of  him  did  not  die  out  as  time  went  on. 
It  seemed  to  grow  worse  as  her  difficulties  thickened. 
What  he  would  do  to  help  her  she  did  not  know,  but 
only  that  the  mere  sound  of  his  voice  would  give  her 
pleasure.  His  image  often  filled  her  mind  now,  and 
her  thoughts  wandered  back  to  the  days  when  he  was 
with  her.  The  city  seemed  empty  without  him.  She 
watched  for  him  continually,  and  missed  him  more 
despondently  every  hour. 

This  evening,  as  she  sat  in  the  Park,  she  made  up 
her  mind  that  she  would  write  to  his  office  again,  and 
tell  him  that  she  had  come  back  to  London.  Even 
if  he  was  in  Australia,  she  supposed  that  letters  must 
be  sent  on  to  him  by  his  managing  clerk.  She  did 
not  know  his  present  private  address.  How  like  him 
that  young  man  was  at  a  little  distance  beyond  those 
laurels  !  He  wore  a  light,  long  greatcoat  over  even- 


Xife  in  a  <5arret.  301 

ing  clothes.  He  walked  like  Dick.  He  had  a 
mustache  and  dark  eyes  and  an  alert  air.  He  came 
this  way,  and  every  step  brought  him  more  within 
view.  It  was  Dick!  Hilary  rose  to  her  feet  with  a 
throb  of  glad  recognition,  just  as  he  turned  down  a 
sidepath  that  led  more  quickly  out  of  the  Park.  She 
set  off  at  a  brisk  pace  to  follow  him. 

But  Dick  outstripped  her.  He  walked  hard,  like  a 
man  in  a  hurry,  and  Hilary  encountered  obstacles  on 
the  way.  The  path  swarmed  with  children  and  per- 
ambulators to-night,  and  every  one  of  them  helped  to 
hinder  her  tiresomely  from  overtaking  Dick.  Once 
she  lost  sight  of  him.  Then  she  saw  him  pass  out  of 
the  gates,  and  by  the  time  she  came  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  them  he  had  hailed  a  hansom  and  jumped 
into  it.  If  only  she  could  have  shouted  or  whistled  ! 
But  there  were  so  many  people  about,  and  even  now 
some  stared  at  her  hot  haste.  She  had  run  a  little  way, 
and  felt  rather  panting  and  disheveled  already.  And 
Dick  would  stare  stupidly  in  front  of  him  and  not 
give  one  glance  back.  She  knew  now  that  her  letter 
would  reach  him,  and  that  should  have  been  a  con- 
solation. But  for  to-day  she  had  missed  him,  and 
that  grieved  her.  Besides,  she  felt  as  if  she  had 
given  chase  to  a  young  man  and  beheld  him  drive 
away.  This  was  unreasonable.  Nevertheless,  as  she 
slackened  and  turned  homeward,  her  eyes  were  full  of 
tears.  It  was  the  second  time  that  she  had  seen  Dick 
and  been  unable  to  accost  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A    WHITE    ELEPHANT. 

HILARY  walked  back  very  slowly.  She  had  to 
make  her  way  through  noisy  streets,  more  hideous 
perhaps  in  midsummer  than  at  any  other  season.  The 
pavement  was  strewn  with  bits  of  paper  and  stale 
vegetable  refuse.  Dust  lay  thick  on  the  flags  and 
choked  the  stale,  hot  air.  The  only  tempting  things 
in  sight  were  the  strawberries  heaped  on  barrows,  but 
even  these  at  the  end  of  the  day  looked  flabby,  so 
many  hours  had  passed  since  they  had  been  gathered 
from  the  shade  of  their  own  leaves.  Hilary,  however, 
could  not  resist  them.  She  had  eaten  nothing  that 
day  but  some  brown  bread  and  marmalade.  She 
bought  a  pound,  and  resolved  to  do  without  meat  on 
the  morrow  to  make  up  for  it.  She  wondered  where 
Dick  would  dine  that  night.  When  she  got  to  the 
street  in  which  she  lived  it  seemed  even  less  inviting 
than  usual.  A  barrel  organ  was  grinding  out  the  last 
music-hall  melody,  and  two  or  three  slatternly  juvenile 
couples  were  jigging  up  and  down  to  it.  The  cat's- 
meat  man  was  plying  his  trade,  and  a  dealer  in  rags 
and  bones  went  from  house  to  house,  and  bargained 
long  and  loudly  with  the  housewives,  most  of  whom  on 
this  hot  evening  set  open  the  front  door,  and  sought 
air  on  the  door-step. 

Hilary  let  herself  in  with  a  latchkey  and  walked 
heavily  upstairs,  pursued  by  the  vile  jingle  of  the 
barrel  organ  and  the  yell  of  the  cat's-meat  man.  To 
her  surprise,  as  she  got  near  her  own  room,  she  heard 
someone  moving  inside,  and  when  she  opened  the 
door  she  stood  still  on  the  threshold  in  amazement, 
unable  for  a  moment  to  believe  her  eyes.  There,  on 


&  "Cdbite  jeiepbant.  3°3 

the  edge  of  a  chair,  with  a  face  of  injured  disgust,  sat 
Nell,  a  dressing-bag  as  big  as  a  trunk  at  her  feet,  and 
a  trunk  as  big  as  a  furniture  van  filling  up  the  floor. 

"Nell!"  cried  her  sister,  and  said  nothing  else  for 
some  time.  The  two  girls  had  not  met  since  Nell's 
wedding  eve,  since  Mrs.  Frere's  death.  Nell's  flip- 
pant letters  were  not  an  exhaustive  index  to  her  mind. 
What  she  had  left  unwritten  her  tears  and  smiles  said 
now. 

"How  do  you  come  here?"  asked  Hilary  at  last. 
"Where  is  Herr  Hansen?" 

"I  have  been  here  for  an  hour,"  replied  Nell.  "If 
you  had  kept  me  waiting  another  five  minutes,  I  should 
have  gone  to  the  M^tropole.  What  a  hole  this  is! 
You  don't  mean  to  say  you  sleep  in  that  bed?" 

"I  do." 

"But  where  do  you  have  your  meals?  Where  is 
your  sitting  room?" 

"This  is  the  only  room  I  have." 

"Good  Heavens!"  said  Nell.  "What  do  you  think 
you  gain  by  living  in  a  pigsty  like  this?  You  look  as  if 
you  had  just  walked  out  of  a  hospital." 

"I  can't  afford  anything  better." 

"But  you  had  about  a  hundred  pounds  of  mine,  and 
you  have  five  hundred  of  your  own." 

"When  I  came  to  London  I  had  twenty  pounds. 
I  cannot  touch  my  capital  till  I'm  twenty-five — you 
know  that,  Nell.  I  have  lived  in  this  room  for  twelve 
weeks,  and  only  spent  eleven  pounds,  and  two  of  those 
went  for  fees  and  pots  and  pans." 

The  real  difficulty  of  accomplishing  such  a  feat 
did  not  reach  Nell's  comprehension.  She  said,  "I 
call  that  a  good  deal  to  spend  in  such  a  hole  as  this. 
They  ought  to  pay  you  to  inhabit  it.  Can  they 
cook?" 

"I  do  my  own  cooking  and  cleaning,"  said  Hilary. 

"It  looks  like  it,"  said  Nell. 

"Where  is  Herr  Hansen?"  inquired  Hilary  for  the 
second  time. 

"I  have  no  idea." 


3°4  Gbe  (Srassboppers. 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  come  by  your- 
self?" 

"That's  it." 

Hilary  looked  at  her  sister  in  search  of  further 
lights,  and  she  discovered  that  Nell  felt  more  uneasy 
than  her  words  would  admit. 

"Did  he  like  you  to  travel  alone?"  asked  Hilary. 

"We've  had  a  row,"  explained  Nell.  "He  had  to 
go  to  Lyons  on  business,  and  he  didn't  want  to  leave 
me  alone  in  Paris." 

"Quite  right." 

"Well !  You  needn't  talk.  I  didn't  want  to  go  and 
live  by  myself  in  a  hovel.  I  merely  wished  to  wait  at 
our  hotel,  instead  of  traveling  back  to  Hamburg  with 
some  of  his  frumpish  friends." 

"Why  couldn't  you  go  to  Lyons  with  him?" 

"He  doesn't  stay  there.  He  has  to  fly  round  in 
country  districts,  and  he  meant  to  travel  by  night 
a  good  deal.  He  said  it  would  be  too  rough  and 
too  tiring  for  me.  He  thinks  I'm  in  Hamburg  by 
this  time.  He'll  be  surprised  when  I  write  from 
London." 

"Won't  he  be  angry?" 

"Probably.  I  must  write  to-night.  What  address 
shall  I  give?  I  can't  stay  here.  I  have  a  good  mind 
to  go  to  an  hotel." 

"No,  don't  do  that,"  persuaded  her  sister.  "I  am 
sure  your  husband  would  not  like  it.  He  can't  so 
very  much  mind  your  coming  to  see  me." 

"I  should  think  not,  indeed,"  said  Nell. 

Hilary,  while  she  talked,  had  taken  off  her  hat  and 
gloves,  and  put  a  cloth  and  some  tea-things  on  the 
little  table.  Nell  observed  her  closely. 

"What  have  you  done  to  yourself?"  she  said,  with 
growing  discontent.  "You  look  old  and  starved. 
What  were  you  going  to  have  for  supper?" 

Hilary  exhibited  her  bag  of  strawberries.  On  the 
table  there  was  half  of  a  twopenny  loaf. 

"Well!  what  else?  Where's  the  butter?  Where's 
the  meat?  Where's  the  wine?" 


a  TBHbtte  Blepbant.  3°5 

"If  you  want  all  those,  you  must  go  and  buy  them," 
said  her  sister. 

"My  stars!"  said  Nell.  "This  is  worse  than  at 
Aunt  Bertha's." 

"London  is  dearer  than  Hamburg,  and  I  only  spend 
five  shillings  a  week  on  food.  It  is  quite  enough, 
Nell.  I  assure  you,  I  don't  starve.  The  women  who 
make  shirts  at  so  much  a  gross — or  button-holes — they 
can  only  afford " 

"What  time  does  Shoolbred  close?"  interrupted 
Nell.  "I  want  my  dinner.  If  they  are  shut  up,  we 
must  go  somewhere  else.  I'll  pay  for  us  both.  Be 
quick!  We  had  a  rough  crossing,  and  I  feel  as  if  I 
had  lived  on  button-holes  for  a  week." 

"Have  you  much  money  with  you?" 

"None — about  ten  pounds.  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
when  I  came  away  I  thought  I  was  coming  for  good, 
and  I  left  some  of  my  money  behind.  It  seemed  more 
dignified,  and  I  was  in  such  a  rage.  Of  course,  I 
expected  to  find  you  living  in  decent  lodgings.  I 
can't  stand  this  sort  of  thing.  Fritz  must  fetch  me 
back  at  once." 

"I  never  heard  of  such  behavior,"  said  Hilary 
severely.  "You  can't  run  away  from  your  husband 
one  day  and  run  back  again  the  next.  No  man  will 
stand  being  treated  like  that." 

"What  do  you  know  about  it?"  asked  Nell,  going 
to  the  glass  to  arrange  her  veil.  "Fritz  will  stand 
anything  from  me." 

"You  certainly  wrote  as  if  you  were  happy,  and  you 
look  well." 

"I  feel  ill  in  this  room.  Where  am  I  to  sleep? 
Where  can  I  put  my  clothes?  Shall  we  go  into  decent 
lodgings  to-night?  There  are  plenty  near  here." 

Hilary  hesitated. 

"No,"  she  said.  "Herr  Hansen  may  wish  you  to 
leave  at  once,  or  he  may  refuse  to  send  you  more 
money  as  you  came  off  in  this  headlong  way.  Put  up 
with  a  room  here  until  he  writes." 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  gown?"  said  Nell  incon- 


3°6  Gbe  (Brassboppera. 


sequently.  "Poor  mamma!  I  never  buy  a  new  one 
without  thinking  of  her.  I  like  spending  money,  you 
know,  just  as  she  did.  You  never  cared  about 
clothes." 

"That's  nonsense,"  said  Hilary.  "lam  as  fond  as 
you  are  of  nice  frocks.  You  always  think  that  if  one 
does  without  anything  it  is  a  sign  of  indifference  to  it. 
Do  you  suppose  I  enjoy  living  up  here  on  five  shillings 
a  week?" 

Somehow  Nell's  return  made  it  look  a  miserable 
and  rather  ridiculous  life.  The  sordid  details  of  it 
crowded  across  Hilary's  mind  as  she  watched  her 
sister's  elegant  figure,  and  listened  to  the  rustle  of  silk 
as  she  moved.  Even  for  three  or  four  days  could  she 
keep  this  dainty  young  woman  content  here?  Who 
would  wait  on  her,  tidy  after  her,  bring  her  tea  in  the 
morning  when  she  woke?  But  it  did  Hilary  good  to 
see  her  sister  again,  and  to  be  carried  back  to  the  old 
way  of  life,  even  for  a  little  while  and  incompletely. 
She  enjoyed  her  dinner  at  Shoolbred's  all  the  more 
because  Nell  ordered  champagne  with  it. 

"Your  ten  pounds  won't  last  long,"  said  Hilary, 
when  her  sister  had  paid  the  bill,  and  given  the  waiter 
twice  as  much  as  he  expected  for  a  tip.  She  tried  to 
persuade  Nell  to  go  home  in  an  omnibus.  They  were 
both  too  tired  to  walk.  But  Nell  hailed  a  hansom, 
and  said  it  was  extravagant  to  take  an  omnibus, 
because,  whenever  you  did,  you  got  measles  or  scarlet 
fever  and  had  to  pay  for  doctors  and  new  wall  papers. 
Hilary  had  always  been  penny  wise  and  pound  foolish. 

It  was  midnight  before  they  went  to  bed.  Nell 
would  sit  in  Hilary's  room,  candle  in  hand,  and  make 
little  rushes  into  her  own  in  search  of  cockroaches  and 
worse.  But  at  last  she  allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded 
that  she  had  seen  the  worst  by  daylight.  Next  morn- 
ing Hilary  got  up  early  and  went  out  shopping.  By 
nine  o'clock  she  carried  quite  a  comfortable  little 
breakfast  tray  into  her  sister's  room. 

"I  can't  think  what  you  do  all  day,"  said  Nell,  sit- 
ting up  and  pouring  out  her  tea.  "How  do  you  amuse 
yourself?" 


a  mbite  Blepbant.  307 

"By  looking  for  work  that  I  can't  get." 

"Then  what's  the  use  of  looking  for  it?  Have  you 
seen  the  Theodores?" 

"No.     I  don't  want  to." 

"I  do.  I've  brought  clothes  on  purpose.  Open 
that  trunk,  Hilary.  The  big  black  hat  is  for  you. 
They  wear  the  feathers  sticking  up  like  that  in  Paris. 
You  must  have  one  of  my  gowns  too,  and  some  boots 
and  gloves.  I  never  saw  such  a  scarecrow  as  you  are 
in  that  ragged  old  serge.  It  is  not  ladylike.  And 
your  hair  is  wrong.  You  can't  wear  it  that  way  now." 

"But,  my  dear  girl,"  said  Hilary,  a  few  hours  later, 
when  she  had  put  on  some  of  her  sister's  things,  "I 
can't  go  after  a  situation  as  daily  governess  dressed 
like  this." 

Nevertheless  she  found  the  sensation  of  being  well 
dressed  again  an  exceedingly  pleasant  one.  She  felt 
for  the  moment  as  if  she  had  cast  away  many  of  her 
troubles  with  her  rags.  In  the  afternoon  they  went 
to  call  on  Mrs.  Theodore.  Nell  had  taken  the  utmost 
pains  with  her  toilet,  and  as  she  was  shown  into  the 
drawing  room  her  hostess  saw  at  a  glance  that  Paris 
had  turned  her  out  from  the  shape  of  her  bonnet  to 
the  fit  of  her  boots  and  gloves.  Both  sisters  were  in 
black.  Mrs.  Theodore  described  their  visit  to  her 
husband  that  evening  while  they  were  waiting  for 
dinner. 

"Somehow,"  she  said,  "I  never  thought  of  those 
girls  as  still  in  existence.  I  supposed  them  gone 
under — submerged.  I  knew  Nell  had  married  a  fat 
German,  but  a  marriage  like  that  hardly  counts,  does 
it?  At  any  rate,  when  she  sailed  in  to-day,  dressed  like 
a  French  duchess,  I  didn't  know  her  for  a  moment. 
I  recognized  Hilary  first.  She  is  in  a  consumption, 
otherwise  she  has  not  altered  much.  But  Nell  has 
blossomed  into  a  beauty.  She  has  the  manner,  the 
air — it  is  an  indescribable  change.  You  must  see 
her.  She  sat  down  next  to  poor  dear  Sophia  and 
inquired  kindly  after  Arthur.  You  should  have  heard 
her.  Really,  with  her  complexion,  Sophia  might  know 


3°8  tTbe  (Brassboppers. 

better  than  to  wear  that  brutal  blue.  I  was  quite 
ashamed  of  her.  But  I  can't  make  those  girls  out 
altogether.  Why  does  Hilary  look  so  queer?  and 
they  gave  me  no  address.  They  are  to  dine  here  next 
Tuesday.  Herr  Hansen,  too,  if  he  has  arrived.  Nell 
expects  him,  she  says.  Is  he  really  well  off?" 

"Rather!"  said  Mr.  Theodore.  "Wish  we  had 
half  his  income." 

"Dear  me!"  said  Mrs.  Theodore  meditatively. 
"Then  Nell  will  not  be  ruined  in  a  year." 

Nell  felt  pleased  with  the  impression  she  had  made, 
which  shows  that  she  had  a  little  mind.  But  she  said 
that  going  back  to  the  attic  was  like  sitting  on  a  cinder 
heap  after  supping  in  a  palace.  She  proposed  that 
they  should  dine  out  again. 

"Your  money  will  soon  be  gone  at  this  rate," 
objected  her  sister;  for  Nell  had  bought  twenty  things 
she  did  not  need  already  to-day. 

"But  you  have  some  left, "said  Nell. 

"Yes,  but  I  cannot  squander  it  as  you  do." 

"You  can  lend  it  to  me,  and  I'll  pay  you  back." 

"I've  been  inclined  to  think  my  life  a  hard  one," 
observed  Hilary.  "But  I  see  it  might  have  been  a 
good  deal  harder.  If  you  had  been  with  me,  we  should 
both  have  gone  to  the  workhouse  long  since." 

"You're  such  a  croaker!  Look  at  me!  I  take 
things  as  they  come  and  enjoy  myself,  and  I  get  all  I 
want." 

"As  it  happens,  you  do.  But  I  suppose  other  folks 
have  to  provide  it  for  you.  I  can't  imagine  a  world 
peopled  by  women  with  nothing  to  do  but  dress  and 
amuse  themselves." 

"I  don't  want  to  imagine  it.  The  world  as  it  is 
suits  me  very  well." 

"Then  you  don't  regret  having  asked  Herr  Hansen 
to  marry  you?" 

"Not  since  I  have  paid  this  visit  to  you,"  said  Nell, 
with  an  expressive  glance  round  the  room. 

"Shall  you  wear  your  wedding  gown  next  Tues- 
day?" 


a  TMlbfte  Blepbant.  3°9 

Hilary  really  felt  less  curious  about  the  gown  than 
about  Nell's  views  with  regard  to  Arthur  Preston. 
The  chances  were  that  they  would  meet  him  on  Tues- 
day at  the  Theodores'.  Nell  guessed  at  the  thought 
in  her  sister's  mind. 

"I  shall  wear  a  new  black  moire,"  she  said.  "It 
suits  me  better  than  my  wedding  gown." 

"Poor  dear  Sophia!"  thought  Hilary;  but,  on  the 
whole,  she  felt  reassured.  Nell  looked  for  the  post- 
man with  anxiety,  and  her  eyes  twinkled  mischievously 
when  she  spoke  of  the  dinner  on  Tuesday.  Evidently 
time,  absence,  and  marriage  had  mended  her  heart. 
The  old  breakage  had  not  even  left  a  tender  place. 

They  dined  quite  early  that  day,  because,  after  a 
makeshift  lunch  in  their  own  rooms,  Nell  vowed  that 
she  was  starving.  When  they  had  finished  and  come 
out  again  into  broad  daylight,  she  proposed  that  they 
should  walk  across  Regent's  Park  and  look  at  their  old 
home.  Hilary  hardly  felt  up  to  it,  and  said  so;  but 
that  only  induced  Nell  to  hail  a  hansom  and  get  driven 
there.  She  reminded  her  sister  that  it  was  the  anni- 
versary of  their  dance  a  year  ago.  Hilary  had  re- 
membered it  all  day.  She  would  not  be  able  to  sit 
in  the  summer  house  to-night  and  talk  to  Dick,  while 
the  moon  rose  above  the  elms.  Strangers  sat  within 
the  gates  where  her  father  and  mother  used  to  make 
a  sheltered  place  for  their  children.  She  had  never 
felt  inclined  to  attempt  the  pilgrimage  by  herself  and 
stand  outside  her  home.  To-night  Nell  came  with 
her,  and  that  made  a  difference.  Nevertheless,  the 
sisters  turned  away  rather  sadly  when  they  had 
lingered  for  a  minute  or  two  at  the  front  gate.  The 
white  lilac  had  been  cut  down.  The  garden  beds 
were  filled  with  formal  rows  of  geraniums  and  lobelias. 
All  the  blinds  were  new  and  ugly.  A  gaudy  flower- 
pot stood  on  a  round  table  in  the  library  window. 
On  the  gate  post  a  new  name  was  painted  instead  of 
the  number  that  had  contented  the  Freres.  The  little 
villa,  with  its  bit  of  garden  behind,  was  now  called 
"Broadlands." 


310  Cbe  (Sraseboppers. 

"Come  away,"  said  Nell,  "we  have  seen  enough." 
They  had  dismissed  their  cab  and  began  to  walk 
slowly  toward  the  end  of  the  road.  But  they  had  not 
left  their  old  home  twenty  yards  behind  them  when 
Nell  cried  suddenly,  "There  is  Dick  Lorimer  on  the 
other  side.  I  saw  his  face  as  he  came  out  of  the 
house.  I  should  like  to  speak  to  him." 

"So  should  I,"  said  Hilary. 

Something  unusual  in  her  voice  caught  Nell's  quick 
ear — a  note  of  excitement  that  she  struggled  to  sup- 
press. She  did  not  quicken  her  own  pace,  but  it  was 
with  a  thrill  of  pleasure  that  she  watched  Nell  cross 
the  road  at  a  run.  Dick  turned  as  she  overtook  him, 
and  from  where  she  stood  Hilary  could  see  his  face 
light  up  with  pleasure  and  surprise.  The  moment 
after  he  had  shaken  hands  with  Nell  he  came  eagerly 
toward  her,  and  for  some  minutes  the  three  old  friends 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road  and  tried  there  and 
then  to  bridge  the  gaps  made  by  months  of  silence  and 
separation.  Where  had  Dick  been?  Why  had  he 
never  written?  How  was  it  that  the  sisters  were  in 
London  by  themselves?  Their  address  at  once! 
Unfortunately  Dick  had  to  go  off  to  Manchester  to- 
morrow, but  he  would  be  back  in  a  week.  A  business 
man  without  a  partner  was,  as  they  knew,  a  slave. 

"Do  you  still  live  near  here?"  asked  Nell  at  last. 
"Can't  we  come  in  and  see  you  for  half  an  hour?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Dick,  glancing  at  Hilary  in  doubt 
of  her  approval.  He  saw  her  hesitate. 

"Or  I  will  walk  back  with  you,"  he  suggested. 

"I  can't  talk  out  of  doors,"  said  Nell.  "I  want  a 
chair  and  a  cup  of  tea  to  set  my  tongue  going.  I'll 
chaperon  you,  Hilary.  I'm  a  German  matron,  I  am. 
You  know  I'm  a  German  matron,  don't  you,  Dick? 
That  happened  before  you  went  to  the  Antipodes." 

For  Dick  had  explained  that  he -had,  after  all,  gone 
to  New  York  in  February,  and  from  there  to  Australia. 
New  business  combinations  had  made  the  further 
journey  desirable.  In  Australia  he  had  been  obliged 
to  travel  quickly,  and  it  was  not  wonderful  that  many 


a  Mbite  Blepbant.  3" 

of  his  letters  had  wandered  round  the  world  after  him. 
He  had  only  received  the  one  announcing  Mrs.  Frere's 
death  three  days  ago,  and  he  had  written  at  once  to 
Frau  Werner  to  ask  for  news  of  Hilary  and  Nell. 

"Hilary  looks  very  ill,"  whispered  Dick,  when  some 
turn  in  their  walk  gave  him  the  opportunity  of  speak- 
ing unheard  to  Nell. 

"She  has  been  starving  in  a  garret  for  three  months," 
said  Nell. 

"Great  Scott !     Why  did  you  let  her  ?  " 

"I  didn't  know." 

There  was  no  chance  of  saying  more  just  then,  be- 
cause they  had  arrived  at  Dick's  lodgings.  He  led  the 
way  to  one  of  those  empty-looking,  heavily  furnished 
dining  rooms  in  which  bachelors  of  his  condition  are 
content  to  spend  some  of  their  leisure  hours ;  and,  at 
Nell's  request,  he  rang  and  ordered  tea. 

'  'Your  sister  says  you  have  been  back  three  months," 
he  said,  addressing  Hilary,  and  looking  at  her  with 
anxious,  dissatisfied  eyes.  "Where  are  you  staying?" 

Hilary  hesitated. 

"Come  and  see,  Dick,"  said  Nell.  "I  invite  you 
to  tea.  When  do  you  get  back  from  Manchester?" 

"Wednesday.  I  could  come  rather  late  on  Wednes- 
day afternoon." 

"How  can  we  have  people  to  tea,  Nell?"  said 
Hilary,  in  a  voice  of  vexed  remonstrance.  "What 
are  you  thinking  of?" 

"You  don't  call  me  'people,'"  said  Dick.  "Is 
Herr  Hansen  with  you?" 

Nell  laughed. 

"Not  exactly." 

"When  do  you  expect  him?" 

"Soon;  or  I  shall  go  to  the  Me"tropole  and  send 
him  the  bill." 

"It  is  not  really  so  bad,"  said  Hilary.  "It  is  Nell 
who  is  spoiled.  Plain  living  does  not  content  her 
nowadays.  But  we  cannot  have  you  to  tea,  Dick." 

"Where  can  we  meet,  then?" 

Hilary  considered,  and  could  not  answer.     Mean- 


(Brassboppers. 

while  Nell  wrote  their  address  on  a  scrap  of  paper, 
and  handed  it  to  Dick  with  a  flourish. 

"I  expect  you  on  Wednesday  afternoon,"  she  said. 
"If  Fritz  comes  and  we  move  to  the  Metropole,  I  will 
let  you  know." 

When  the  tea  arrived  Dick  asked  Hilary  to  pour  it 
out.  He  got  up  to  take  his  cup  from  her,  and  stood 
at  her  side  as  he  drank  it. 

"What  have  you  been  doing  all  these  months?"  he 
asked.  "You  don't  look  fit." 

"I've  been  looking  for  work,"  said  Hilary  wearily. 
"How  do  men  manage  to  make  a  living,  Dick?" 

"Some  don't." 

"Poor  things!  And  it  lasts  so  long.  Twenty-four 
hours  in  the  day  for  every  one  of  us,  whether  the  time 
is  full  of  pleasure  or  of  pain." 

Dick  looked  pityingly  at  the  girl's  thin,  shadowy 
face,  and  Hilary  felt  as  if  she  had  spoken  too  directly 
out  of  her  innermost  heart,  which  was  sorrowful.  His 
silence  only  strengthened  this  impression,  and,  as  if 
she  desired  to  remove  it,  she  got  up  now  and  began  to 
look  about  the  room.  Her  attention  was  caught  by  a 
little  shelf  of  books  in  one  corner,  and  she  went  up  to 
them  with  a  cry  of  recognition.  There  was  her  own 
old  set  of  the  Waverley  Novels,  her  own  old  Shakspere. 
Dick,  then,  had  bought  them  at  the  sale.  She  turned 
to  ask  him,  saw  that  he  was  speaking  under  his  voice 
to  Nell,  and,  with  one  volume  in  her  hand,  went  still 
nearer  to  the  window  to  get  more  light.  Nell  and  she 
were  going  to  the  Lyceum  on  Saturday  afternoon. 

"Are  you  making  your  fortune,  Dick?"  Nell  had 
said  in  a  low  tone,  directly  her  sister  wandered  off. 

"Not  in  your  sense  of  the  word,"  said  Dick.  "I 
could  not  afford  such  rings  as  you  are  wearing,  but  I 
can  afford  to  marry." 

"Happiness  does  not  depend  on  money,"  remarked 
Nell  sedately.  "Are  you  going  to  be  married,  Dick? 
It  is  quite  time." 

"Quite  time,"  he  echoed. 

"Then  what  are  you  waiting  for?" 


H  'Cdbitc  Blepbant.  3*3 

"You  embarrass  me,  Nell.     Have  some  more  tea." 

"Don't  snub  me,  Dick.     Confide  in  me." 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  the  Australian  journey 
has  done  it.  Six  months  ago  I  could  not  have  set  up 
housekeeping." 

"Housekeeping  need  not  cost  much,"  said  Nell,  "if 
you  marry  someone  economical — like  me." 

"I  want  to  marry  someone — like  you,"  said  Dick. 
Nell's  eyes  met  his  in  delighted  inquiry,  and  then  with 
understanding.  For  he  smiled  and  nodded,  and  in  his 
eyes  there  was  a  question  too. 

"You  both  look  pleased,"  said  Hilary,  coming 
toward  them.  With  Dick  in  the  room,  she  had  found 
it  impossible  to  fix  her  attention  closely  on  any  printed 
page.  She  wanted  to  hear  what  he  said,  to  look  at 
him,  to  engage  his  interest. 

"Have  you  heard  some  good  news?"  she  asked  in 
wonder,  for  she  knew  her  sister's  face,  and  she  had 
never  seen  it  better  pleased. 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,"  said  Dick. 

"You're  not  mistaken,"  said  Nell;  "and  I  don't 
think  I  am." 

Hilary  said  it  was  time  to  go  home.  She  evidently 
thought  them  badly  behaved  to  speak  in  enigmas  that 
they  refused  to  explain.  So  Nell  said  that  she  had 
been  encouraging  Dick  to  make  a  venture. 

"A  business  venture?"  asked  Hilary,  with  uplifted 
eyebrows.  "Don't  trust  her,  Dick.  She  understands 
nothing  but  Paris  fashions." 

"I  think  you  are  unjust  to  her,"  said  Dick.  And 
as  their  cab  drove  off  he  lifted  his  hat  and  said, 
"Good-by  till  Wednesday." 

"I  shall  write  and  tell  him  not  to  come,"  declared 
Hilary. 

"You  goose!"  said  Nell. 

Taken  by  themselves  these  words  sound  neither 
flattering  nor  explanatory,  but  they  seemed  to  please 
Hilary,  and  she  said  nothing  more  about  writing  to 
put  off  Dick. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

IN    WHICH    OLD   FRIENDS   MEET. 

"You  only  half  believe  it,"  said  Nell  next  day, 
"and  I  hope  Fritz  will  never  find  it  out,  but  I  really 
ran  away  from  him.  Luckily  I  didn't  leave  a  letter  to 
say  so.  What  an  idiot  a  woman  who  does  that  must 
be !  She  must  often  want  to  go  back,  just  as  I  did 
the  moment  I  saw  this  room  and  remembered  I  had 
no  money." 

"I  hate  to  hear  you  talk  as  if  you  only  valued  Herr 
Hansen  for  his  money,"  said  Hilary.  "Do  you  mean 
to  say  that,  if  someone  left  you  a  fortune,  you  would 
run  away  in  good  earnest?" 

The  sisters  were  sitting  close  to  the  open  window  in 
Hilary's  room.  They  had  spent  three  hot,  tiring 
hours  at  the  Academy,  and  when  Nell  got  back  she 
put  herself  into  a  white  silk  wrapper  as  quickly  as 
possible  and  asked  for  tea.  The  water  had  been  set 
to  boil  above  a  spirit-lamp  that  Nell  said  made  the 
air  smell  of  methylated  spirit.  So  she  had  brought  in 
a  bottle  of  scent  and  a  scent  diffuser,  from  which  she 
was  lazily  sending  out  a  fine  spray.  The  room  soon 
began  to  smell  of  heliotrope. 

"Why  don't  you  call  him  Fritz?"  she  said,  without 
looking  at  all  annoyed  by  her  sister's  rebuke.  "He 
is  your  brother  now.  No,  I  should  not  run  away 
again,  even  if  I  had  any  money.  I  find  I  miss  him." 

"He  is  worth  a  dozen  of  you,"  said  Hilary. 

"Why  doesn't  he  write?     Why  doesn't  he  come?" 

"He  is  probably  very  angry." 

"He  may  be,  but  I  am  his  wife.  He  can't  cast  me 
off  like  an  old  coat." 


In  TOlbicb  ©12)  frlenDs  /Beet.  3*5 

"I  wonder  that  argument  didn't  occur  to  you  when 
you  left  Paris — ran  away,  as  you  call  it." 

' '  What  shall  I  do  if  he  goes  back  to  Hamburg  with- 
out me?" 

"Go  after  him  and  ask  his  pardon." 

"Hilary!  You  do  change  your  mind!  Not  so 
long  ago  you  would  have  said  'Stay  here  and  lead  a 
wide,  free  life  full  of  thrills.'  I  suppose  this  is  what 
you  call  a  wide,  free  life?"  inquired  Nell,  glancing 
round  the  garret. 

Hilary  was  obliged  just  then  to  get  up  and  attend 
to  the  spirit  lamp. 

"It  is  very  inconvenient  when  a  member  of  your 
own  family  runs  away  from  her  husband,"  she  said, 
as  she  made  the  tea.  '  'What  is  one  to  say  to  everyone 
if  Herr  Hansen  doesn't  soon  turn  up?" 

"I  hope  he  won't  go  back  to  Hamburg  without  me. 
He  says  that  his  housekeeper  will  fill  all  our  rooms 
with  flowers,  and  put  devices  over  the  doors — 'Wel- 
come to  the  young  wife,  and  joy  to  the  happy  pair.' 
If  she  does,  and  he  arrives  by  himself,  he  will  feel  so 
silly." 

"I  wonder  if  you  make  him  happy?"  said  her 
sister. 

"I  have  never  asked  myself  the  question.  When 
we  were  first  married  I  was  wretched.  Then  I  got 
that  telegram  about  mamma  and  was  so  ill,  and  he 
was  so  good  to  me.  I  began  to  be  fond  of  him  about 
that  time.  We  quarrel  a  great  deal,  though.  I  had 
such  a  business  to  get  him  to  cut  his  hair,  and  wear 
English  clothes,  and  not  call  me  pet  names  in  public." 

"And  what  does  he  want  you  to  do?" 

"Take  an  interest  in  housekeeping.  One  of  our 
worst  rows  was  in  the  market  at  Milan.  He  was  so 
shocked  I  didn't  know  the  price  of  turnips,  and  I  was 
so  shocked  that  he  did." 

And  so  Nell  would  go  on  for  a  long  time  talking  of 
her  husband  with  a  curious  mixture  of  admiration, 
ridicule,  and  affection.  That  she  felt  uneasy  at  his 
silence  no  one  could  doubt  who  saw  her  watch  for  the 


3l6  Gbe  (Srassboppers. 

postman,  and  look  deeply  disappointed  when  he 
brought  her  nothing.  When  several  days  had  gone 
by,  Hilary  began  to  wonder  anxiously  whether  the 
breach  could  be  a  more  serious  one  than  she  had  at 
first  supposed.  But  it  rejoiced  her  to  see  signs  of 
Nell's  attachment  to  her  husband — signs  that  her 
old  sentiment  for  Arthur  had  worn  itself  out.  Did 
this  mean  that  her  sister's  nature  was  a  shallow  one, 
capable  of  fancy,  but  not  of  love?  Surely  not!  If 
Arthur  had  proved  brave  and  loyal,  he  might  have 
counted  on  Nell  to  his  dying  day.  But  he  had  dealt 
her  a  cruel  blow;  for  a  time  it  had  stunned  her,  and 
now  she  was  holding  up  her  head  again.  Why  should 
she  let  it  droop  long  for  one  proved  unworthy?  Some 
girls  would  have  been  shattered  for  life  by  such  treat- 
ment, but  natures  so  sensitive  and  difficult  to  heal  are 
luckily  rare.  Nell  belonged  to  the  sane  majority 
who  suffer  and  get  well  again. 

Nell  had  not  known,  until  she  left  him,  how  com- 
pletely her  husband  had  won  her  heart.  She  had 
learned  to  recognize  his  generosity,  to  expect  his 
devotion,  even  to  find  his  company  agreeable.  Who 
else  thought  her  chatter  brilliant,  and  her  caprices 
reprehensible  but  still  endearing?  He  had  the  admir- 
able habit  of  seeming  constantly  aware  of  her  youth,  her 
grace,  her  beauty.  She  missed  his  approving  eyes. 
These  long  days  and  nights  spent  in  a  London  garret 
oppressed  her  like  a  nightmare.  She  kicked  against 
the  ugliness  of  life  in  such  an  environment.  She 
could  not  put  up  with  the  everlasting  pinch  and  scrape. 
She  would  have  moved,  but  she  had  sent  Herr  Hansen 
this  address,  and  any  day  or  hour  might  bring  him  to 
it.  Besides,  Hilary  did  not  wish  to  move  with  her. 

Hilary  was  getting  very  anxious  about  the  lowness 
of  their  united  funds.  A  week  had  passed  now  with- 
out a  letter  or  a  message  from  Herr  Hansen.  Suppose 
he  never  wrote  again,  or  only  after  long  and  tedious 
negotiations?  They  would  soon  be  in  actual  want ;  and 
yet  the  degree  of  economy  desirable  in  such  circum- 
stances seemed  out  of  Nell's  reach — like  a  counsel  of 


In  mbicb  ©ID  ffrien&s  /Beet.  31? 

perfection.  If  she  made  a  cup  of  tea  she  put  half  a 
week's  allowance  into  the  pot;  she  used  butter  as  if  it 
was  not  a  luxury;  she  bought  expensive  fruit  and  deli- 
cate provisions  for  every  meal  they  ate  at  home.  While 
her  money  lasted,  she  paid  willingly  enough  nine 
times  out  of  ten;  but  she  seemed  to  think  on  the  tenth 
occasion  that  Hilary  might  like  to  take  her  turn. 
And,  in  spirit,  Hilary  gladly  did  so.  She  hated 
profiting  by  comforts  she  refused  to  provide.  But 
though  she  croaked  from  morning  till  night,  and  often 
felt  scathed  by  her  sister's  scorn  of  her  niggardly 
management,  yet  the  money  seemed  to  fly.  At  first 
she  had  not  troubled  greatly,  had  let  Nell  go  her 
ways,  had  been  dragged  here  and  there  in  search  of 
amusement  and  decent  food.  She  had  even  enjoyed 
the  first  few  days  of  vagabondage  about  London  shops 
and  picture  galleries.  After  her  grim  months  of 
penury  and  disappointment  the  easy  hours  had  been 
a  pleasant  change.  She  only  began  to  be  frightened 
when  she  saw  Nell's  purse  almost  empty  and  her  own 
threatened.  She  began  to  look  for  the  postman  as 
eagerly  as  her  sister  did ;  and  when  Nell  had  been 
with  her  a  week  she  began  to  hunt  for  work  again. 
She  did  not  forget  that  Dick  was  coming  to  tea  on 
Wednesday,  but  she  could  not  reckon  on  what  he 
would  say;  and,  in  any  case,  unless  Herr  Hansen 
came  to  their  immediate  assistance,  her  sister  and  she 
would  soon  be  in  a  tight  place.  Hilary  constantly 
looked  forward  to  the  morning  when  their  last  shilling 
had  gone  and  Nell  demanded  her  dinner.  She  sup- 
posed that  Nell  would  pawn  her  dressing  case  and 
then  her  jewels;  but  she  shrank  from  letting  her  sister 
take  such  a  step  as  she  would  have  shrunk  from  the 
threshold  of  a  workhouse  or  a  prison. 

The  day  on  which  they  were  to  dine  at  the  Theo- 
dores' she  got  a  letter  from  a  registry  office  with  the 
offer  of  a  situation  as  mother's  help. 

"It  is  a  clergyman's  wife  with  seven  children,"  she 
explained  to  Nell.  "A  comfortable  home  and  ten 
pounds.  No  servant  kept.  I  did  not  want  to  give 


3*8  abe  CJrassboppers. 


up  this  room,  but  I  think  I  must.  No  one  has  offered 
me  a  home  and  ten  pounds.  With  my  own  twenty  I 
shall  be  quite  well  off." 

"How  can  it  be  a  comfortable  home  with  seven 
children  and  no  servant?"  said  Nell.  "What  rot! 
The  woman  wants  a  general  servant  for  less  wages 
than  a  real  servant  would  take.  Let  her  get  a  smudge 
from  a  reformatory.  You  can't  make  a  sow's  ear  out 
of  a  silk  purse,  Hilary.  How  silly  you  must  be  to 
think  you  can!" 

"I  shall  go  and  see  her,"  said  Hilary.  "If  she  is 
very  nice,  I  should  not  mind  helping  her." 

She  had  to  make  her  way  to  the  uttermost  ends  of  a 
remote  suburb  under  a  burning  July  sun.  As  she 
dragged  back  again  in  the  early  afternoon  she  felt  dead 
beat,  and  when  she  got  upstairs  her  white  face  fright- 
ened Nell. 

"Lie  down  directly!"  she  cried.  "I  will  make  you 
some  tea.  You  will  look  like  a  ghost  to-night.  Has 
it  been  worth  while?  I  guess  not,  from  your  face." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Hilary  doubtfully.  "I  have 
not  refused  to  go  there.  I  have  said  I  wanted  a  day 
to  think  it  over." 

"What  were  the  people  like?" 

"Pigs,"  said  Hilary  concisely.  "A  slovenly  little 
hole  of  a  house  that  smelled  of  Irish  stew,  and  had 
ragged  oilcloth  on  the  stairs.  The  man  was  in  his 
dressing  gown  smoking  a  pipe,  the  woman  was  sewing 
dirty  artificial  roses  into  a  dirty  blond  bonnet.  He 
spoke  with  a  strong  Irish  accent;  she  dropped  her  A's. 
A  farmer's  son  who  has  got  ordained  and  married  the 
tallow-chandler's  daughter  in  his  first  provincial  parish. 
But  they  have  their  caste  prejudices  like  the  rest  of  us. 
If  I  go  there  I  am  to  have  my  meals  by  myself  —  in  the 
kitchen." 

"Why  did  you  say  you  would  think  it  over?" 
asked  Nell,  with  indignation. 

"Because  no  one  else  offers  me  even  Irish  stew  in 
the  kitchen." 

Nell  looked  reflective,  observed  that  it  was  nearly 


fn  "BClbtcb  <S>1&  tfrienos  /Beet  319 

time  to  dress  for  dinner,  and  went  back  to  her  own 
room,  where  she  wrote  a  note  to  Dick  Lorimer. 

"DEAR  DICK  [she  said]:  Be  sure  and  come  to 
tea  to-morro™7.  You  used  to  have  some  influence 
with  Hilary.  She  wants  to  go  as  general  servant  to 
a  woman  who  drops  her  Si's  and  has  seven  children. 
Persuade  her  to  come  and  live  with  us  in  Hamburg." 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Nell  had  never  asked  her  sister 
to  live  with  her  in  Hamburg.  She  knew  that  Hilary 
would  refuse,  and  she  believed  that  in  most  cases  it  is 
better  for  newly  married  people  to  live  by  themselves. 
If  she  led  Fritz  the  deuce  of  a  life,  she  did  not  wish 
other  folks  to  know  it.  As  long  as  there  were  no 
lookers-on  to  pity  him,  he  considered  himself  the  hap- 
piest man  in  the  world.  But,  in  writing  to  Dick,  she 
felt  bound  to  speak  as  if  her  home  was  open  to  her 
sister.  And  Dick  would  not  like  the  idea  of  another 
long  separation. 

Nell  posted  her  letter,  and  then  dressed  herself  with 
exceeding  care.  The  sisters  were  the  last  to  arrive  at 
Mrs.  Theodore's,  and  as  Nell  entered  the  room,  with 
the  stately  air  she  had  grown  into  since  her  marriage, 
the  first  person  she  saw  was  Arthur  Preston.  For 
a  moment  he  hardly  recognized  Nell  Frere  in  this 
elegant  young  woman.  It  was  not  only  the  Paris 
gown  that  made  the  difference.  She  looked  taller 
than  usual,  she  walked  with  a  prouder  carriage,  she 
spoke  with  greater  self-possession.  But  when,  after 
speaking  to  her  host  and  hostess,  she  glanced  at  Arthur 
and  smiled,  he  came  hastily  forward.  The  sight  of 
her  turned  his  head. 

"But  where  is  Sophia?"  she  asked.  "Surely  you 
have  brought  Sophia." 

"There  she  is,"  answered  Arthur  unwillingly,  as 
Sophia  appeared  from  another  part  of  the  drawing 
room.  Where  did  she  buy  her  gowns,  he  wondered, 
now  that  Mrs.  Theodore  had  no  hand  in  them?  But 
he  remembered,  The  one  she  wore  to-night  she  had 


320  *Fbe  <3ra00boppers. 

picked  up  ready-made  at  a  sale.  She  had  owned  that 
it  was  not  her  color,  and  not  exactly  her  size,  but  it 
had  been  an  undoubted  bargain,  and  was  described  by 
the  saleswoman  as  a  Paris  model.  The  worst  atrocities 
in  English  shops  are  usually  described  in  this  way ; 
so  that  if  anyone  believed  what  saleswomen  say, 
Paris  would  often  be  in  danger  of  losing  her  elegant 
reputation. 

Both  Hilary  and  Nell  rather  liked  Sophia.  They 
thought  her  clumsy,  but  good-natured.  Assuredly 
Nell  did  not  sit  down  beside  her  with  any  thought  of 
giving  people  an  opportunity  of  contrasting  them — to 
Sophia's  grievous  disadvantage.  But  their  juxtaposi- 
tion did,  in  fact,  stamp  the  contrast  on  the  attention 
of  everyone  present,  and  no  one  saw  it  so  strongly  as 
Sophia's  husband,  because  his  sensitive  marital  vision 
saw  with  the  combined  eyes  of  the  company.  He  had 
mated  with  Sophia,  and  he  might  have  mated  with 
Nell.  At  that  moment  even  Sophia's  thirty  thousand 
pounds  hardly  consoled  him. 

"Well,  Sophia,"  Nell  was  saying  cheerfully,  "we 
have  not  seen  each  other  for  a  long  time.  I  hope  you 
are  very  happy — as  I  am." 

"I'm  all  right,"  said  Sophia,  with  a  funny,  harsh 
chuckle  she  meant  for  a  smile.  "How  pretty  you've 
grown,  Nell!  Much  prettier  than  you  used  to  be. 
You  do  your  hair  so  well  now.  When  you  came. in  I 
hardly  knew  you." 

Nell  laughed,  and  got  up  at  Mr.  Theodore's  invita- 
tion to  go  in  to  dinner  on  his  arm.  He  behaved  in 
quite  a  new  way  to  Nell  to-night,  and  amused  her 
vastly.  It  was  impossible  to  be  too  civil  to  a  girl  who 
had  managed  to  marry  Hansen,  Bopp  &  Rossler, 
even  if  six  months  ago  the  same  girl  had  been  the 
daughter  of  a  penniless  man,  and  therefore  of  no  con- 
sequence at  all.  Pretty  young  women  do  sometimes 
spring  these  embarrassing  surprises  on  persons  who 
have  justifiably  overlooked  them.  But  it  is  the  part 
of  the  man  of  the  world  to  veer  with  skill.  To  the 
young  woman  the  change  of  tactics  must  afford  much 


fn  IDabicb  ©tt>  ffrtenfcs  dfceet.  32* 

harmless  amusement.  Nell,  at  any  rate,  looked  as  if  she 
enjoyed  her  dinner.  Arthur  Preston  sat  on  her  other 
side,  and  tried  hard  to  fall  back  into  their  old  tone  of 
intimate,  and  rather  sentimental  understanding.  He 
might  as  well  have  tried  to  warm  his  hands  at  an  icicle. 
As  the  dinner  progressed  he  began  to  look  sullen. 

When  the  ladies  were  by  themselves  in  the  drawing 
room  Mrs.  Theodore  asked  Nell  where  she  had  spent 
her  honeymoon,  and  when  it  appeared  that  she  had 
been  in  Italy  and  Switzerland  for  five  months,  some- 
one remarked  that  her  husband  and  she  must  have 
been  very  much  in  love  with  each  other  to  want  so 
long  a  time  to  themselves. 

"I  was  ill  for  a  long  time,"  said  Nell.  "We  were 
to  have  been  at  home  again  by  the  end  of  March." 

"Shall  you  ever  feel  at  home  in  Hamburg?"  said 
Mrs.  Theodore.  "You  used  to  say  you  did  not  like 
Germans." 

"One's  tastes  change.  I  mean  to  like  my  husband's 
people." 

"You  used  to  like  Arthur,"  croaked  Sophia.  She 
sometimes  said  things  so  clumsy  and  ill-timed  that  her 
sister-in-law  set  her  down  as  half-witted. 

"Did  I?"  said  Nell  sweetly.  "But  you  would 
naturally  think  that  of  people." 

"Oh!  he  told  me.  He  wanted  to  marry  you — 
before  he  saw  so  much  of  me,  you  know." 

"Really!"  said  Nell. 

"Are  you  going  back  to  Germany  with  your  sister?" 
said  Mrs.  Theodore  abruptly  to  Hilary.  "You  look 
as  if  you  wanted  a  change." 

"I  am  going  to  stay  in  England,"  said  Hilary. 

"When  do  you  expect  Herr  Hansen?" 

"We  do  not  know  for  certain." 

"Does  he  write  every  day,  as  a  devoted  husband 
should?" 

"No.     Not  every  day." 

Mrs.  Theodore  looked  at  Hilary  curiously.  She 
thought  her  manner  a  little  odd,  a  little  unwilling. 
She  wondered  whether  anything  could  have  gone 


322  Gbe  (Srassboppera. 

wrong  already  between  Nell  and  her  husband.  It 
struck  her  as  strange  that  Nell  should  be  over  here 
without  him. 

Presently  the  men  came  back  to  the  drawing  room, 
and  Arthur  went  straight  to  a  vacant  chair  near  Nell, 
just  as  he  would  certainly  have  done  a  year  ago. 

"Last  time  I  saw  you,  you  wore  white  roses,"  he 
began  sentimentally;  "I  thought  of  it  directly  I 
noticed  those  in  your  gown  to-night.  Did  you 
remember  it  when  you  chose  them?" 

"No,"  said  Nell  lightly;  "I  nearly  took  white  car- 
nations instead." 

"Women  have  such  short  memories." 

"It  is  yours  that  fails  you  in  this  instance,"  said 
Nell,  with  a  note  of  contemptuous  indignation  in  her 
voice.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  been  roused  to 
speak  seriously  that  night.  "The  last  time  we  met 
was  when  you  came  to  say  good-by  after  my  father's 
death." 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  that  occasion,"  said  Arthur, 
"but  of  Mrs.  Eller's  dance.  We  danced  all  through 
the  programme  together." 

"Did  we?  What  bad  manners!  But  your  step 
used  to  suit  mine.  How  is  Mrs.  Eller?" 

"We  suited  each  other  in  many  ways,"  said  Arthur, 
with  a  sigh.  "I  used  to  think  so.  I  think  so  still. 
I  have  been  very  unhappy." 

"It  has  not  agreed  badly  with  you.  You  look  very 
well." 

"I  know  what  you  mean.  I'm  getting  beastly 
stout.  I  always  feel  sorry  for  people  when  I  notice 
that  about  them.  I  say  to  myself,  'There  goes 
another  man  whose  life  is  a  failure.  He  has  lost  all 
he  cares  most  for,  and  the  only  thing  left  is  to  make 
the  best  of  the  lower  material  pleasures — poor  chap ! ' 
So  he  gets  stout,  and  people  think  he's  all  right;  but 
I  pity  him.  Don't  you?  Cakes  and  ale  are  not 
quite  everything,  are  they?" 

"They  are  a  great  consolation,"  said  Nell,  laughing. 

A  silence  ensued,  and  then  Arthur  began  to  speak 


In  mbicb  ©15  ffrtenos  fbeet.  323 

again  in  his  usual  tone,  which  was  jaunty,  knowing, 
and  derisive. 

"I  suppose  you're  tremendously  rich  and  happy 
and  all  that." 

"I  suppose  I  am,"  said  Nell  contentedly. 

"Your  husband  is  a  great  deal  older  than  you,  isn't 
he?" 

"Yes." 

"I  remember  him,  I  think.  He  used  to  play  the 
piano  to  your  sister,  and  he  was  very  particular  about 
his  dinner." 

"Replays  the  piano  tome  now.  I  listen  to  him 
for  hours.  He  is  still  very  particular  about  his 
dinner.  So  am  I." 

"You  have  changed  very  much,  then." 

"Oh,  yes!     I  have." 

"I  feel  that  more  every  moment,"  said  Arthur 
gloomily.  "You  have  changed,  and  I  have  not." 

"I  don't  think  you  have  altered  very  much,"  said 
Nell,  and  her  eyes  seemed  to  take  his  measure  as  they 
met  his  with  a  satirical  glance.  She  got  up  as  she 
spoke  and  went  toward  Sophia,  who  looked  lonely. 

"What  have  you  been  saying  to  Arthur?"  inquired 
Mrs.  Preston.  "He  looks  so  cross.  I  had  no  idea 
when  I  married  him  that  he  had  such  a  bad  temper. 
Did  you  ever  find  it  out?" 

"No,"  said  Nell;  "but  then  I  never  married 
him." 

"I  don't  wonder  you  put  him  out  of  temper,"  said 
Mrs.  Theodore  to  her  sister-in-law.  "You  say  such 
silly  things." 

Sophia  stared  placidly  across  the  room,  not  at  all 
uneasy  or  offended.  She  was  quite  satisfied  with  her 
ill-humored  mate,  and  quite  blind  to  his  cavalier  treat- 
ment of  her. 

"My  wife  tells  me  that  you  are  going  to  live  in 
town  by  yourself,"  said  Mr.  Theodore,  strolling  up  to 
Hilary  and  sitting  down  near  her.  She  thought,  as  she 
looked  at  him,  that  he  was  less  agreeable  than  ever, 
and  she  determined  that  in  future  she  would  not 


324  Gbe  (Braesboppers. 

often  find  herself  the  guest  of  a  man  who  roused  her 
strong  antipathy.  His  smile  struck  her  as  derisive, 
and,  in  words  that  were  ostensibly  harmless,  he  man- 
aged to  convey  a  sneer.  His  tone  to-night  suggested 
that  her  intention  of  living  by  herself  in  Babylon  out- 
raged his  notions  of  propriety.  Probably  it  did. 
The  propriety  of  men  like  Mr»  Theodore  is  a  sensitive 
plant. 

"You  will  be  quite  the  woman  of  the  world,"  he 
continued.  "I  suppose  you  have  your  latchkey  and 
your  club." 

"Mr.  Theodore,"  said  Hilary,  acting  on  a  sudden 
resolution,  "I  want  to  speak  to  you  on  a  matter  of 
business.  Can  I  see  you  any  time  to-morrow?" 

He  stiffened  at  once. 

"Certainly,"  he  replied,  after  a  moment's  pause. 
"I  can  see  you  in  my  office  at  four,  or  here  at  half- 
past  five,  whichever  you  prefer." 

"I  will  come  to  the  office  at  four." 

"I  cannot  imagine  what  business  a  young  lady  like 
you  can  have  in  her  head,  or  what  you  can  have  to 
say  in  a  merchant's  office.  I  am  very  old-fashioned, 
you  know.  I  consider  that  a  woman's  proper  place  is 
in  the  drawing  room." 

"But  many  women  have  no  drawing  rooms," 
objected  Hilary;  "what  are  they  to  do?" 

"They  are  failures,  and  in  all  departments  the  fail- 
ures don't  count.  You  throw  them  away.  They 
disappear." 

"I  think  you  are  rather  old-fashioned,"  said  Hilary, 
getting  up  with  the  intention  of  bidding  good-night 
to  Mrs.  Theodore.  "You  talk  as  if  our  fate  depended 
on  you  and  not  on  ourselves." 

She  crossed  the  room  and  approached  her  hostess, 
who  got  up  to  meet  her.  Nell  rose  too,  of  course, 
and  so  did  one  or  two  other  people.  Arthur  Preston 
found  himself  for  a  moment  at  Nell's  side  again. 

"May  I  come  and  see  you?"  he  whispered. 

"Oh,  do!"  she  replied  in  a  clear,  cheerful  voice. 
"I'm  in  a  garret  just  now  with  Hilary.  One  of  her 


fn  mbfcb  <$>!£>  ffrien&s  dfceet.  325 

freaks.  But  when  my  husband  comes  I'll  ask  you  and 
Sophia  to  tea." 

"Thank  you.  That  is  just  what  I  should  like,"  he 
muttered  savagely. 

Nell  was  still  standing  in  the  center  of  the  room, 
bidding  good-by  and  making  appointments  with  several 
people  who  wished  to  see  her  again,  when  a  footman 
came  in  with  a  telegram,  which  he  handed  to  her.  She 
changed  color,  glanced  quickly  at  Mrs.  Theodore  for 
permission  to  open  it,  and  flushed  with  pleasure  as 
she  read  the  message. 

"My  husband  arrives  to-morrow,"  she  explained, 
her  eyes  dancing  and  her  voice  happy.  "But  he  says 
we  must  return  to  Hamburg  at  once.  So  all  my 
engagements  will  come  to  nothing.  I  am  sorry  for 
that." 

"But  how  does  the  telegram  come  here?"  asked 
Mr.  Theodore. 

"I  left  word  at  our  rooms  where  I  was.  I  rather 
expected  it,"  explained  Nell.  She  bid  good-by  in 
earnest  now,  and  as  she  shook  hands  with  Arthur  she 
said,  "I'm  sorry  that  tea  party  won't  come  off." 

And  next  day  Sophia  confided  to  her  sister-in-law 
that  she  sometimes  thought  people  were  right  when 
they  said  Arthur  was  a  bad-tempered  man. 

"How  very  well  that  girl  has  done  for  herself!"  said 
Mrs.  Theodore,  speaking  of  Nell  to  her  husband  after 
their  guests  had  gone;  "much  better  than  if  she  had 
married  Arthur  with  his  nasty  temper  and  his  extrava- 
gant, unbusinesslike  ways.  I  began  to  think,  though, 
that  she  had  quarreled  with  her  bread  and  butter, 
coming  away  by  herself  like  that,  and  living  in  a  hole 
and  corner  with  Hilary.  I  suppose  the  telegram  was 
from  Herr  Hansen?" 

"Oh,  yes,  she's  all  right,"  growled  Mr.  Theodore. 
"Some  people  have  luck  they  don't  deserve.  Talk 
of  acquiring  wealth  without  doing  a  stroke  of  work  for 
it!  What  about  poor  women  who  marry  moneyed 
men?  And  the  airs  they  give  themselves,  and  the  coin 
they  squander " 


326  cbc  (Srassboppers. 

He  looked  meditatively  at  his  wife,  and  left  his 
remarks  unfinished.  She  took  the  diamond  pins  out 
of  the  lace  on  her  bodice,  and  rang  for  her  maid. 

"Don't  be  unjust  to  us,"  she  said  blandly.  "We 
have  to  put  up  with  the  men." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

AN    ARRIVAL,    A   DEPARTURE,    AND    A   SURPRISE. 

"  He  says  I  am  to  be  at  Charing  Cross  at  half-past 
eleven  to-morrow  morning  to  meet  him,"  began  Nell, 
directly  they  were  in  the  cab.  "  I  shall  take  all  my 
luggage  with  me,  because  he  wants  to  start  back  at 
once  by  the  Club  train.  Won't  he  be  tired,  racing 
over  to  London,  and  from  London  to  Hamburg  right 
on  end  ?  I  wonder  why  he  is  in  such  a  hurry  ?  " 

"What  does  he  say  exactly  ?  "  asked  Hilary. 

"  He  says — '  Charing  Cross,  Wednesday  morning, 
1 1 130.  Be  there  without  fail.  Must  leave  Wednes- 
day, Club  train.'  " 

"I  wonder  why  he  has  not  written?" 

"I  believe  Mrs.  Theodore  thought  there  was  some- 
thing up.  She  inquired  so  much  after  him." 

"Well,"  said  Hilary,  "it  is  not  your  fault  if  there  is 
not  something  up,  as  you  call  it.  I  expect  you  will 
find  that  he  is  very  angry." 

"He  can't  be  angry  long — with  me,"  said  Nell. 

"You're  a  minx,"  said  her  sister. 

The  girls  were  both  in  very  good  spirits  that  even- 
ing. Until  her  husband's  telegram  arrived  Nell  did 
not  know  how  uneasy  his  ten  days'  silence  had  made 
her.  The  sense  of  relief  was  great  when  she  read  his 
message,  and  understood  that  she  would  be  with  him 
again  twenty-four  hours  later. 

"As  long  as  you  are  not  married  at  all,  you  are  all 
right,"  she  explained  to  Hilary.  "But  when  once 
you  are,  you  feel  like  a  bird  with  one  wing  when  your 
husband  is  away." 

"I  don't  suppose  the  feeling  is  universal  among 
married  folk,"  objected  Hilary.  She  felt  as  greatly 


<5ra06bopper0. 

relieved  as  her  sister;  for  to  make  fight  against  poverty 
with  Nell  by  your  side  was  like  facing  an  armed  foe 
with  your  hands  bound.  Ten  days  of  it  had  almost 
exhausted  her  resources.  She  had  the  single  five-pound 
note  left  that  she  had  put  by  for  an  "emergency,"  and 
besides  that  about  thirty  shillings.  Unless  she  went 
as  mother's  help  to  the  seven  children,  she  could  not 
live  on  thirty  shillings  until  October — for  ten  weeks, 
as  she  counted  in  her  little  pocket  almanac.  She 
might,  of  course,  spend  the  five  pounds,  but  she 
shrank  from  doing  so.  Suppose  she  fell  suddenly  ill 
and  wanted  medicines,  doctors,  luxuries  in  a  hurry, 
before  she  could  get  help  from  her  sister.  She  clung 
to  her  five  pounds.  To-morrow  she  meant  to  put  her 
case  strongly  before  Mr.  Theodore,  and  urge  him  to 
advance  her  a  small  sum  out  of  her  own  little  fortune. 
Nell  seemed  to  think  there  could  be  no  difficulty  about 
it,  but  on  a  matter  of  business  she  could  not  trust 
Nell.  If  she  failed,  if  Mr.  Theodore  convinced  her 
that  the  thing  was  impossible,  she  had  made  up  her 
mind  to  eat  Irish  stew  in  the  curate's  kitchen ;  at  any 
rate,  to  cook  it  there  for  the  seven  children.  It  would 
give  her  a  roof  to  her  head,  a  certain  amount  of  food, — 
probably  more  than  she  had  given  herself  of  late, — and, 
most  important  of  all,  something  in  the  shape  of  a 
testimonial  with  which  to  better  herself  shortly.  By 
Christmas  she  might  aspire  to  be  a  nursery  governess, 
and  perhaps  a  year  later  someone  might  trust  her  to 
teach  children  to  write  and  read.  Meanwhile,  if  she 
sat  up  at  night,  she -could  work  at  Russian.  For  her 
translation  of  the  "Hecuba"  she  had  not  found  a  pub- 
lisher, but  she  had  seen  in  one  of  the  women's  journals 
that  several  women  were  being  paid  for  translating 
stories  from  the  Russian. 

Nell  seemed  quite  blind  to  her  sister's  difficulties. 
She  evidently  thought  that  her  visit  must  have  saved 
Hilary  money,  since  she  had  paid  for  so  many  ices, 
strawberries,  and  cabs.  How  could  anyone  who  liked 
living  in  this  grubby,  miserable  way  want  money  at 
all?  You  cannot  believe  that  Diogenes  in  his  tub  had 


Bn  arrival,  a  Departure,  and  a  Surprise.     329 

weekly  expenses.  Besides,  Dick  Lorimer  was  coming 
to  tea  on  Wednesday. 

"Got  any  money?"  she  said  next  day,  when  her 
trunks  were  packed  and  they  were  just  about  to 
start. 

"Not  much,"  owned  Hilary,  thinking  to  herself  that 
if  Nell  offered  to  give  her  a  little  she  would  not  re- 
fuse it. 

"Lend  me  what  you  have,"  said  Nell,  opening  her 
purse  and  turning  it  upside  down  to  show  that  it  no 
longer  held  a  sixpence.  "I  want  to  tip  the  old  woman, 
and  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  pay  for  my  room,  and  I 
want  to  stop  in  Regent  Street  and  get  a  dear  little 
traveling  hat  that  just  matches  my  gown.  I  noticed 
it " 

"Nell,"  interrupted  her  sister,  "if  I  lend  it  you,  you 
must  give  it  me  back  before  you  go." 

"How  much  have  you  got?" 

"Seven  pounds  ten,  to  last  me  till  October." 

"I  should  think  it  would  last  you  till  Christmas 
here." 

"If  I  get  behind-hand  I  must  borrow  from  you, 
Nell." 

Nell  laughed,  and  held  up  her  empty  purse  again. 

"I'm  always  in  that  condition,"  she  said.  "We 
should  have  to  ask  Fritz." 

"I  don't  want  to  do  that,"  said  Hilary. 

"No,"  said  Nell  lightly.  "Men  hate  being  asked 
for  money,  don't  they?  You  must  get  some  of  your 
own  of  course.  It  will  last  you  much  longer  than  you 
want  it." 

Nell's  words,  irresponsible  and  thoughtless  as  they 
were,  strengthened  Hilary  in  her  resolve  to  struggle 
on  alone.  She  would  rather  cook  and  sew  for  seven 
children  than  ask  for  help  that  would  be  unwillingly 
given. 

The  sisters  drove  together  to  Charing  Cross,  left 
Nell's  luggage  in  the  cloakroom,  and  then  returned  to 
Regent  Street  to  buy  the  hat  and  various  other  neces- 
saries— such  as  a  large  box  of  American  sweets,  a  new 


33°  Gbe  (Srassboppers. 

mechanical  toy,  and  a  complete  photographic  collection 
of  stage  and  society  beauties  with  which  Nell  said  she 
meant  to  discomfit  the  enemies  of  England  in  Ham- 
burg. They  had  arranged  that  Nell  only  should  meet 
her  husband's  train,  while  Hilary  ordered  lunch  for  all 
three  in  a  private  room  at  the  Metropole. 

"Now,  look  here,  Nell,"  she  said,  as  her  sister  parted 
from  her,  "you  are  not  to  run  off  with  your  husband 
and  all  my  money.  Remember  I  have  none  to  pay 
the  hotel  bill.  I  should  be  put  in  prison.  Swear  you 
will  turn  up!" 

Nell  laughed,  pulled  off  her  glove,  and  presented 
Hilary  with  one  of  her  diamond  rings. 

"I  meant  to  give  you  this,  anyhow,"  she  said.  "If 
I  don't  come  back,  you  can  sell  it." 

But  half  an  hour  later  she  did  come  back,  followed 
by  Herr  Hansen ;  and  Hilary  thought  she  saw  signs 
of  victory  in  his  manner.  His  face  lightened  as  he 
greeted  her. 

"I  am  glad  you  were  here  to  look  after  my  runaway 
wife,"  he  said. 

"Well,  she  ran  away  to  me,"  returned  Hilary. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"I  never  heard  of  a  young  lady  doing  such  a  thing — 
never!  I  make  arrangements  for  her  to  travel  with 
my  good,  respectable  friends ;  we  write  to  Hamburg  to 
have  everything  ready;  I  give  her  money  for  the 
journey ;  I  bid  her  good-by  with  great  sorrow ;  I  say 
to  myself  business  is  business,  and  ten  days  goes 
quickly ;  I  arrive  at  Lyons  and  get  no  telegram  from 
her  and  no  letter  next  day.  I  telegraph  to  my  friends 
and  they  reply,  'Your  wife  not  in  Hamburg.  Gone  to 
London.'  I  tell  you,  I  was  mad  with  anxiety.  I  did 
not  know  what  to  think  for  twenty-four  hours.  After 
all,  I  am  not  a  handsome  young  fellow.  Only  after 
two  days  did  I  get  her  letter  to  say  she  was  with  you. 
For  two  days  and  two  nights  I  did  not  know  what  had 
become  of  her.  It  was  wicked." 

"We  have  been  very  anxious  all  this  time  for  a  letter 
from  you,"  said  Hilary,  who  quite  agreed  with  Herr 


Sn  arrival,  a  departure,  anfc  a  Surprise.     33 l 

Hansen  in  his  denunciation  of  Nell's  conduct,  but  did 
not  like  to  say  so. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  he  answered  dryly.  "I 
thought  it  well  that  Nell,  in  her  turn,  should  under- 
stand what  it  means  to  be  anxious,  so  I  did  not 
write.  Besides,  I  was  too  angry.  I  should  have  said 
what  neither  of  us  could  forget.  It  is  not  well  to  write 
when  one  is  angry.  When  I  tell  it  in  Hamburg,  they 
will  say  that  is  what  comes  of  marrying  an  English- 
woman." 

"Why  should  we  tell  it  in  Hamburg?"  asked  Nell, 
who  had  listened  to  her  husband  very  demurely,  but 
with  a  dancing  light  in  her  eyes. 

"It  is  true,"  said  Herr  Hansen ;  "we  shall  be  saved 
the  trouble.  My  friends  will  have  told  the  whole 
story." 

"Look  here,"  said  Nell,  deftly  strewing  the  table 
with  her  great  parcel  of  photographs.  "These  be 
Englishwomen.  I  am  going  to  put  rows  of  them  on 
my  drawing-room  walls." 

Herr  Hansen  glanced  at  the  collection  as  it  had  been 
shot  out  there  in  higgledy-piggledy  confusion — peer- 
esses, actresses,  dancers,  women  of  royal  blood, 
society  beauties,  and  beauties  in  nc  society  at  all. 
He  took  one  between  his  fingers — the  portrait  of  a 
corpulent  burlesque  actress  dressed  in  tights — ex- 
amined it  with  tolerant  contempt,  tore  it  in  two, 
and  threw  it  into  the  grate. 

"You  had  better  sort  them,"  he  said;  "some  are 
not  fit  for  your  eyes;"  and,  in  spite  of  Nell's  remon- 
strances, he  picked  out  the  most  objectionable  and 
tore  them  into  little  pieces. 

It  amused  Hilary  to  watch  him.  He  treated  Nell 
as  if  she  was  the  most  precious  and  provoking  creature 
in  the  world.  Nothing  he  could  give  her  was  too 
good,  and  nothing  he  could  say  too  severe.  In  some 
ways  he  seemed  ready  to  slave  for  her,  in  others  to 
lay  down  the  law.  She  could  not  persuade  him  to 
stay  on  in  London. 

"It  is  time  for  us  to  get  home,  and  for  you  to  have 


332  Gfte  (Srassboppers. 

the  charge  of  the  house,"  he  said.  "You  will  find 
that  there  is  something  else  to  do  in  the  world  than  to 
look  in  the  glass  and  spend  money,  though  what  sort  of 

housekeeping  it  will  be Imagine,"  he  continued 

to  Hilary,  "when  we  were  at  Montreux  we  took  a 
villa  and  your  sister  had  to  order  the  meals.  Then 
I  discovered  that  she  knew  nothing  a  woman  should 
know — nothing  at  all.  One  day  she  ordered  enough 
for  a  dozen,  and  the  next  day  I  had  to  go  hungry. 
She  cannot  even  make  coffee,  or  knit  a  stocking,  or 
iron  a  shirt.  Every  day  I  received  a  fresh  shock  when 
I  asked  her  about  such  things." 

"I'm  not  going  to  iron  your  shirts  and  knit  your 
socks,"  sniffed  Nell.  "I  would  if  you  were  a  railway 
porter  on  a  pound  a  week — perhaps.  But  I  mean  to 
have  the  prettiest  dinner  table  in  Hamburg,  and  an 
English  drawing  room.  I  won't  have  artificial  flowers, 
and  I  will  have  an  English  parlor  maid." 

"That  is  all  very  well,"  said  Herr  Hansen,  looking 
at  his  young  wife  with  admiration  that  belied  his 
words;  "we  cannot  eat  the  flowers  and  the  parlor 
maid.  In  Hamburg  when  we  sit  down  to  dinner  we 
are  hungry." 

"I  owe  Hilary  seven  pounds  ten,"  said  Nell,  sud- 
denly changing  the  subject.  "Have  you  any  English 
money,  Fritz?" 

"I  can  get  some,"  he  said,  and  when  lunch  arrived 
he  gave  the  waiter  a  French  banknote  to  exchange  for 
him. 

"You  do  not  look  very  well,"  he  resumed,  observ- 
ing his  sister-in-law.  "When  are  you  coming  to  stay 
with  us?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Hilary. 

The  husband  and  wife  exchanged  glances. 

"You  are  sure  that  you  have  enough  money  to  go 
on  with?" 

"I  have  not  much,"  admitted  Hilary;  "but  I  am 
going  to  see  Mr.  Theodore  this  afternoon  about  get- 
ting more." 

"Well,  if  there  is  any  difficulty,  you  must  let  me 


Bn  arrival,  a  departure,  ano  a  Surprise.     333 

know.  You  are  not  a  spendthrift  like  Nell,  but  with- 
out money  one  can't  get  on  in  London." 

"  Listen  to  him  !  "  cried  Nell.  "  I  have  not  spent 
as  much  since  we  were  married  as  he  did  on  that  row 
of  pearls  I  wore  last  night.  I  buy  a  pound  of  sweets 
and  some  shilling  photographs.  He  buys  pearls." 

"Nevertheless,"  maintained  Herr  Hansen,  "you 
are  the  spendthrift,  and  not  I.  But  I  shall  not  let 
you  ruin  me." 

And  Hilary  thought  with  great  inward  comfort  that 
he  would  prove  a  man  of  his  word.  She  saw  them 
off  by  the  Club  train,  and,  as  she  stood  on  the  plat- 
form, Nell  chatted  to  her  in  the  disconnected  fashion 
usual  on  such  occasions.  Further  back  in  the  carriage, 
Herr  Hansen  tried  to  stow  away  the  books  and  illus- 
trated papers  which  his  wife  had  bought  from  the 
newsboys. 

"Mind  you  tell  the  woman  with  seven  children  to 
go  to  the  devil,"  she  recommended. 

"Nell,"  warned  her  husband,  "that  gentleman  at 
the  door  of  the  next  carriage  is  a  German,  but  he 
probably  understands  English." 

In  case  he  did  not,  Nell  translated  her  remark  word 
for  word.  Her  husband  shook  his  head. 

"Any  message  to  Aunt  Bertha?"  Nell  asked. 

"Shall  you  go  and  see  her?"  said  Hilary,  in  surprise. 

"Certainly  not,"  decided  Herr  Hansen.  "Besides, 
she  has  given  me  notice  of  removal.  The  house  will 
soon  be  let  to  someone  else." 

"Give  my  love  to  Dick,"  shouted  Nell,  as  the  train 
steamed  slowly  out  of  the  station. 

Hilary  walked  to  the  City  by  way  of  the  Strand, 
Fleet  Street,  and  Ludgate  Hill.  She  had  not  been  in 
her  father's  office  since  his  death,  and  when  she  was 
shown  there  by  one  of  the  clerks,  the  first  thing  she 
observed  was  that  Mr.  Frere's  old  writing  table  had 
been  sent  away.  Mr.  Theodore  sat  at  a  new  one. 
He  rose  for  a  moment  to  receive  her,  and  then  finished 
a  letter  before  he  gave  her  further  attention.  When  he 
had  signed  his  name  he  turned  in  his  chair  and  said: 


334  Gbe  ©rassboppers. 

'Has  Herr  Hansen  come?" 
'Yes;  and  gone  again,"  replied  Hilary. 
'I  suppose  your  sister  has  gone  with  him?" 
'Naturally.     He  came  to  fetch  her." 
'I  wonder  you  stayed  behind.     You  cannot  live 
here  on  twenty  pounds  a  year,  or  will  Herr  Hansen 
make  you  an  allowance?" 

"I  should  not  accept  one  unless  I  was  ill  or  dis- 
abled," said  Hilary. 

"I  suppose  you  have  found  some  means  of  making 
money,  then?" 

"Not  yet.     I  hope  to  soon." 

"It  isn't  easy,  as  many  women  find  out  when  they 
try.  However,  your  sister's  marriage  is  a  great  thing 
for  you.  Herr  Hansen  can  afford  anything." 

"He  hasn't  married  us  both,"  said  Hilary  impa- 
tiently. 

"I  dare  say  he  will  find  that  he  has — as  far  as  money 
goes.  What  are  you  to  do?" 

"I  want  some  of  my  own  money  until  I  can  make 
enough  to  live  on.  I  live  on  very  little." 

"Where  is  your  own  money?" 

Hilary  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"You  know  best,"  said  she.  "I  am  talking  of  the 
five  hundred  pounds  you  have  invested  for  me." 

"That  is  trust  money.     We  cannot  touch  it." 

"I  thought  it  might  be  managed  somehow.  I  only 
want  a  little,  and  I  would  so  much  rather  get  at  my 
own  than  take  any  from  Herr  Hansen.  I  cannot  live 
on  what  I  have  till  October." 

"How  much  have  you?" 

"Seven  pounds  ten." 

"That  gives  you  more  than  ten  shillings  a  week. 
What  does  a  woman  want  with  money?" 

"I  cannot  live  on  it,"  repeated  Hilary,  her  anger 
rising  at  his  tone. 

"I  don't  see  what  else  you  are  to  do  unless  you 
go  to  Hansen  for  more.  It  is  not  my  place  to 
give  you  money  when  you  have  a  rich  brother-in- 
law." 


Bn  Arrival,  a  departure,  anO  a  Surprise.     335 

"I  have  not  come  here  to  beg,  Mr.  Theodore. 
What  I  want  belongs  to  me." 

"Oh!  as  to  that,"  said  Mr.  Theodore  nonchalantly, 
"you  haven't  a  penny  piece  of  your  own.  The  seven 
pounds  ten  in  your  pocket  belongs  to  Dick  Lorimer 
by  rights.  So  does  the  five  hundred  I  have  in  trust. 
He  paid  for  your  sister's  wedding  clothes,  really." 

In  this  country  we  permit  ourselves  very  little  out- 
ward sign  of  having  received  a  considerable  mental 
shock.  When  a  companion  knocks  down  the  fireirons 
some  of  us  start  and  scowl,  but  none  of  us  who  are 
decently  behaved  make  any  visible  ado  when  a  word 
or  two,  spoken  before  spectators,  shatters  our  lives. 
Hilary  changed  color,  and  said,  after  a  short,  quiver- 
ing pause : 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Don't  you  know?  He  backed  a  bill  for  your 
father  just  before  his  death,  a  bill  for  two  thousand 
pounds.  Of  course  he  had  to  meet  it,  as  your  father 
died  bankrupt.  How  he  has  kept  on  his  legs  I  don't 
know." 

"We  owe  Mr.  Lorimer  two  thousand  pounds?" 

"Not  legally,  perhaps;  but  still " 

"But — but  did  my  mother  know  of  this?" 

"No.  Lorimer  would  not  have  you  told — didn't 
want  to  put  you  in  the  street,  he  said.  But  now  that 
your  sister  has  done  so  well  for  herself,  I  consider  you 
ought  to  be  told,  and  make  what  restitution  you  can. 
It's  been  precious  hard  on  poor  Lorimer." 

"Has  it  made  much  difference  to  him?"  asked 
Hilary,  who  had  certainly  turned  rather  white. 

"Crippled  him  for  years.  Makes  it  quite  impossible 
for  him  to  marry,  unless  he  gets  put  on  to  someone 
with  money.  Don't  understand  him  doing  it,  myself. 
He  must  have  known  your  father's  affairs  were  in  a 
bad  way." 

"Yes,  I  dare  say  you  find  it  difficult  to  understand," 
said  Hilary  dreamily. 

"I  certainly  shouldn't  have  done  it  myself,  if  that's 
what  you  mean,"  admitted  Mr.  Theodore.  "In  busi- 


336  Gbe  <3ra06bopper0. 


ness  matters  sentiment  won't  pay,  as  my  fine  fellow  has 
found  out  by  this  time." 

1  'Will  there  be  any  difficulty  about  paying  the  five 
hundred  pounds  in  your  possession  to  Mr.  Lorimer?" 

"Certainly.  I  hold  it  in  trust  for  your  benefit  until 
you  are  twenty-five." 

"But  it  belongs  to  Mr.  Lorimer." 

"Not  at  all.  He  signed  a  release.  Do  you  suppose 
I  didn't  know  enough  to  make  myself  safe?" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Hilary,  smiling  a  little 
at  his  tone  of  indignation. 

"Who  does  the  money  belong  to  now?"  she  asked, 
after  a  moment's  further  consideration. 

"To  the  trustees  until  you  are  twenty-five.  It's 
simple  enough." 

"And  then  I  can  pay  it  back  to  Mr.  Lorimer." 

"You  can  make  ducks  and  drakes  of  it  in  any  way 
you  please  when  it's  out  of  our  hands  and  in  yours." 

Hilary  got  up,  and  Mr.  Theodore  accompanied  her 
to  the  door. 

"Lorimer  will  be  down  upon  me  for  telling  you," 
he  remarked. 

Hilary  hurried  downstairs  without  making  any 
reply. 

"I  should  keep  the  seven  pounds  ten,  if  I  were 
you,"  Mr.  Theodore  called  after  her. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

WHAT   EVERY   WISE   MAN*S   SON    DOTH    KNOW. 

WHEN  Dick  saw  the  wretched  little  street  in  which 
Hilary  had  spent  the  last  three  months,  he  did  not 
wonder  that  she  looked  pale  and  ill.  He  was  earlier 
than  his  appointment,  but  he  knocked  at  the  door  and 
asked  if  the  sisters  were  at  home.  The  untidy  little 
girl  who  opened  it  stared  hard  at  him,  and  said  she 
did  not  know.  She  believed  they  had  gone  away. 
He  could  walk  upstairs  and  see,  if  he  liked.  There 
was  a  young  person  lived  in  the  top  attic,  she  believed ; 
but  she  was  not  sure,  because  she  had  only  come  in 
for  an  hour  while  her  aunt  helped  the  lady  opposite  to 
do  her  washing. 

Dick  did  as  he  was  told,  and  ascended  the  steep  little 
stairs  without  an  escort.  When  he  got  to  the  top,  he 
found  Hilary  waiting  for  him  on  the  threshold  of  her 
room.  She  had  heard  his  voice  in  the  hall. 

"Nell  has  gone,"  she  said  at  once. 

"So  I  hear." 

They  both  hesitated  slightly,  and  then  he  went  for- 
ward, determined  that  Nell's  absence  should  not  balk 
him  of  his  cup  of  tea.  Hilary  made  no  difficulty  about 
it.  She  was  as  anxious  as  he  was  for  an  interview. 
When  she  had  shut  the  door  and  he  saw  her  face  with 
more  light  on  it,  he  discovered  that  she  had  been  cry- 
ing. On  the  table  lay  a  letter  addressed  and  stamped. 
There  were  no  tea  things  visible.  To  Dick's  unaccus- 
tomed eyes  the  room  looked  as  unfit  for  Hilary  as  a 
prison  cell. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  he  said  anxiously.  "There 
is  nothing  wrong  with  Nell?" 


(Brassbopperg. 

"No.  Nell  has  gone  off  with  her  husband  quite 
happy." 

"Then  why  are  you  so  unhappy?  Are  you  tired 
of  living  here  alone?  I  hope  you  are." 

The  girl  flushed  at  the  appeal  in  Dick's  voice 
and  eyes.  She  took  her  purse  out  of  her  pocket 
and  emptied  its  contents  on  the  table — the  five- 
pound  note,  the  two  sovereigns,  and  the  little  heap 
of  silver. 

"I  have  been  wondering  what  I  can  do,"  she  began. 
"This  is  all  the  money  I  have,  and  even  this  is 
yours." 

It  made  Dick  miserable  to  see  her;  she  looked 
unnerved,  like  a  person  who  has  not  recovered  from 
a  shock. 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  he  said.  "What  do 
you  mean?" 

"I  have  been  to  see  Mr.  Theodore  this  afternoon," 
she  began.  Then,  finding  it  a  little  difficult  to  go  on, 
she  looked  at  Dick  and  found  that  she  need  not  say 
another  word.  He  understood,  and  his  wrath  blazed 
in  his  eyes. 

"The  mischief-making  hound!"  he  cried. 

"I  think  he  was  right  to  tell  me." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you." 

"I  wish  we  could  make  it  up  to  you,  Dick.  Of 
course  we  never  can — your  goodness — but  I  will  pay 
the  five  hundred  pounds  when  I  am  twenty-five,  and 
I  must  see  what  Nell  thinks  about  the  rest." 

"So  it  has  come  to  that,"  said  Dick,  looking  deeply 
annoyed.  "You  would  rather  take  money  from  Herr 
Hansen  than  from  me." 

"It  is  rather  a  question  of  Nell  helping  me  to  pay 
our  father's  debts,"  amended  Hilary.  "I  hope  I  shall 
never  have  to  take  money  from  anyone.  I  mean  to 
earn  my  own  living." 

"Why  did  you  go  and  see  Theodore  this  afternoon?" 

Hilary  was  uncomfortably  silent. 

"If  you  won't  tell  me,  I  shall  get  it  out  of  him.  I 
mean  to  say  a  few  words  to  him  shortly." 


TKflbat  fivers  "^tee  dBan'0  Son  Dotb  "Know.    339 

"You  can't  ask  Mr.  Theodore  questions  about  my 
business." 

"Can't  I?" 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Hilary,  "that  everyone  thinks 
it  more  his  affair  than  mine  to  manage  my  life." 

Dick  looked  expressively  at  the  opposite  wall. 

"I  have  not  had  a  chance  yet,"  she  continued, 
understanding  that  in  his  opinion  she  had  so  far  not 
managed  very  well. 

"Are  you  going  to  stay  here?" 

"No." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  have  found  an  engagement.  That  letter  is  to 
accept  it." 

"An  engagement  as  what?  Where  is  it?  What  are 
the  terms?" 

"Dick!  You're  not  my  keeper.  No  one  has  a 
right  to  interfere.  Not  Herr  Hansen,  and  not  you!" 

"I  have  this  much  right,"  said  Dick:  "I  have  loved 
you  ever  since  I  knew  you,  and  I  still  hope  that  you 
will  be  my  wife." 

How  suddenly  he  made  the  great  avowal  again, 
and  in  how  quiet  a  voice.  Hilary's  heart  gave  a  leap 
as  she  listened,  and  out  of  all  she  wanted  to  say  she 
could  choose  nothing.  She  stared  at  him  as  if  she 
could  hardly  believe  her  ears. 

"We  have  taken  so  much  from  you,"  she  said 
finally.  "We  have  injured  you." 

"Make  it  up  to  me,  then,"  said  Dick. 

Hilary  smiled,  though  her  eyes  were  threatening 
tears. 

"Will  it  make  up?"  she  asked.  "I  feel  as  if  it 
would  be  taking  more  and  more.  I  have  been  so 
miserable  without  you,  Dick." 

A  little  later  he  took  up  the  letter  lying  on  the  table 
and  tore  it  into  little  pieces. 

"Oh!"  cried  Hilary,  "I  never  gave  you  leave  to  do 
that!" 

"It  is  for  you  to  ask  my  leave,"  he  said,  with  a 
twinkle;  "you  are  going  to  be  my  wife." 


340  £be  orassboppers, 

"But  how  can  you  afford  to  marry?  Mr.  Theodore 
says  we  have  ruined  you." 

"That's  my  business,  not  yours.  You  shall  never 
trouble  your  head  about  money  again." 

"Dick!"  she  said  solemnly,  "if  you  had  been  wise 
and  gone  away  and  taken  this  money,  I  should  have 
had  to  sell  this  ring  Nell  gave  me  before  I  could  pay 
my  rent.  Oh!  how  tired  I  am  of  it  already,  and  I 
have  only  been  here  three  months.  What  do  girls  do 
who  have  no  one  to  fetch  them  away?  I  was  going 
to  be  mother's  help,  you  know,  and  have  my  meals  in 
the  kitchen." 

"They  would  have  turned  you  off  in  a  week,"  said 
Dick,  his  grasp  tightening  on  her  hand. 

"  I  dare  say.  I  am  one  of  the  most  useless  creatures 
in  existence,  and  not  very  strong,  and  not  used  to 
rough  it.  What  becomes  of  such  like,  as  a  rule  ?  " 

"  God  knows  ! " 

"  Do  you  remember  the  line  in  *  Cymbeline,'  Dick  : 

"  '  Fortune  brings  in  some  boats  that  are  not  steered  '  ?  " 

Dick  did  not  remember  it,  but  he  considered  a  little, 
and  then  said  in  a  persuasive  voice  : 

"  I  don't  see  why  we  shouldn't  be  married  next 
week." 

Hilary  stared.  She  had  already  imagined  a  wedding 
in  Hamburg,  possibly  six  months  hence. 

"I  won't  have  you  stay  on  here,"  he  continued. 
"Nell  was  quite  right.  It  is  not  fit  for  you.  You 
look  wretchedly  ill.  I  could  get  away  better  now  than 
later.  We  will  go  straight  to  the  sea  and  live  in  a 
boa*.  We  are  both  good  sailors.  Do  be  persuaded, 
Hilary!  Why  should  we  wait  any  longer?  Why 
should  you  go  away  from  me  again?  And  if  you  stay 
anywhere  here  by  yourself,  you  know  the  endless 
difficulties." 

"But  Nell,"  objected  Hilary. 

"Nell  will  understand.  I  will  send  her  a  wire  this 
very  moment.  Oh!  it  won't  reach  her,  as  she  is  on 
her  journey.  Then  we  will  wire  to-morrow." 


fivers  mise  fl&an'e  Son  Dotb  Imow.    341 

"  You  take  for  granted  I  don't  want  any  smart 
clothes." 

"  Oh,  there's  time  enough  for  that  !  Where  shall 
we  go  ?  North  or  south  ? " 

"But  it  is  impossible.  We  have  not  been  engaged 
half  an  hour!" 

"We  have  known  each  other  for  years.  We  have 
loved  each  other — how  long?" 

"Oh!  along  time,"  sighed  Hilary.  "Why  didn't 
you  speak  before,  Dick?" 

"WHAT!" 

"In  Hamburg,  for  instance,  when  you  came  to  see 
us." 

"I  was  full  of  business  worries.  I  had  not  been 
to  Australia.  Besides — how  was  I  to  know  you  had 
changed  your  mind.  Even  to-day  I  feel  very  uncer- 
tain. But  now,  Hilary,  say  yes.  I  don't  want  to  let 
you  go  again." 

"We  will  go  north,"  said  Hilary,  with  shining, 
happy  eyes,  "far,  far  north,  away  from  the  Tottenham 
Court  Road.  I  shall  dream  of  the  drip  of  the  sea  to- 
night, and  of  seaweed,  and  of  cliffs  dashed  over  with 
foam." 

"And  I  shall  dream  of  you,"  said  Dick. 


THE   END. 


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